Lockdown Liberty: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure
by Shohmyoh1
Summary: In the sprawling city of Bolum a young boy named Joestar finds himself a captive of the government. Detained for reasons unknown and confronted by forces he can't understand, the boy resolves to escape his captors and solve the mystery of the citywide lock-down. However, freedom is not so easily attained...
1. Prologue: 21st Century

**JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Lockdown Liberty**

 **Prologue: 21st Century**

* * *

Jason Ollander Joestar took a long look at the night sky before he was forced into the safe house.

Despite all that had happened in the past month the sky didn't look any different than it usually did. It was black, cloudless and patterned with stars. But at that moment, while the officials were leading him inside, Jason felt a strange sense of longing. It was like he had finally learned to appreciate nature's endless expanse and the freedom to roam it… just as it was being taken away from him.

"We gave you your minute. Let's go, move it."

The taller of the two officials made a quick stabbing motion with his rifle, entreating Jason to walk forward. The seventeen year-old stuck his hands in his jean pockets and shuffled along, walking as slowly as he could while still keeping ahead of the officials. Jason glanced over his shoulder. His 'escorts' looked like people he had no desire to anger: men both wide and tall with stony eyes and grave expressions, wearing what looked like riot gear. Their helmets, body armor and high-powered guns gave the impression that they were ready for anything, including apprehending runaway civilians.

Jason figured that since disobeying them was out of the question, he should at least try to agitate them a little. If living in the suburbs of Bolum had taught him anything it's that you have to be tough to gain any respect. And if you can't be tough, then you have to fake it.

"So what're you rounding people up for? You getting lonely?" Jason tried to maintain a cool tone, unfazed yet slightly caustic. It would have been easier if he hadn't seen their rifles.

"This city is unsafe. We are relocating the citizens of Bolum into government-designated areas until your safety can be guaranteed." The younger-looking of the two officials replied in a wooden voice with little cadence, like he was regurgitating a response that someone else wrote for him.

"You know those talk show hosts that don't bother to memorize their lines and read the teleprompter? You sound like one." Jason shot the officials a quick glare. "And this place doesn't look very 'safe' to me."

The dull white unassuming looking building Jason was led into turned out to be a long-abandoned clinic. An eerie darkness permeated the main lobby, seeping through the vacant pharmacy on the left and stretching out across the path Jason was directed to traverse. It made it difficult to see the small regiment of guards positioned there, about five or six men dressed identically to the two Jason had already met. They simply stood there, barely turning their heads to acknowledge him. With a push and a grunt Jason was instructed to enter a long empty hallway. Jason could hear his footsteps echo off the bare white walls as his sneakers met the dust-laden tiled floor. As he continued he passed a pair of elevators in obvious disrepair, their doors cracked open and the floor buttons dim and lifeless. Soon the dark's uniformity was challenged by a mote of light in the distance, coming out of the left of the two paths that branched from the end of the hall. As Jason approached the light he could hear a faint sound of murmuring.

Turning the corner revealed that the light came from a few dim light fixtures that peppered the ceiling in rectangular panels. Beneath them were three more men in riot gear. A pair of them stood behind what used to be a concession stand, now emptied of all its contents save for a non-functioning soda machine and a simple white desk. The third man stood directly in front of Jason, and it was he who spoke to him.

"State your name please," the officer said, sounding no more invested in what he was doing than the other one did.

Jason stayed silent. The officer repeated his request, this time more forcefully. Jason responded by spitting in his face.

"Toss him in with the rest, we'll sort it out later," the officer ordered as wiped off the spit, clearly irritated. Jason's escorts bid him continue on.

At the end of the hallway was a pair of large automatic doors. An officer punched a few numbers into a keypad on the wall and the doors slid open, revealing the source of the murmurs. A great many people were packed into a waiting room. Though it had been stripped of any furniture it was still inadequate to comfortably contain its occupants; there was little room to walk and few instances of anything resembling personal space. Most of the civilians spoke in hushed tones, and they grew even quieter in the presence of the officers. Jason glanced across the crowd as they turned to look at him. Though their ages and backgrounds varied, nearly all of them wore the same expression of weariness and confusion.

Before Jason could say anything he was shoved into the room and the doors behind him quickly closed. Jason waded through the crowd, aiming to find a corner where he could sit down. Most of the prisoners had already gone back to their prior conversations and paid him little mind as he squeezed between them. He spotted a vacant spot along the unblemished white walls near the upper left corner of the room and quickly filled it, sitting near two older men. He immediately began scanning the room to see if there was someone among the group that he knew, but found no such person.

After that Jason began to size up everyone in the room. It was a habit he had picked up since he moved to Bolum, one that helped to ease the paranoia he often felt when among crowds. There were a small handful of children, most of them around ten years old, that were accompanied by a parental figure holding them close. The majority of the prisoners looked to be around thirty or forty years old, though there were a few older men and a couple of teenagers. One old man in particular stood out, a sixty-something ragged looking man who kept his grey hair and beard tied in multiple short braids. His wide eyes and wider smile made it clear that he wasn't in his right mind. There were two men larger than Jason that quickly caught his eye. The first was a heavy-set man sporting a red mohawk, a crooked nose and a few missing teeth. He looked like he was no stranger to violence. The second looked to be a bodybuilder; mounds of muscle threatened to burst out of his flimsy white shirt. He also looked to be eyeing everyone around him, and Jason was careful not to meet his stare. _So there are only two people here I can't take,_ Jason thought. His observation did little to stem his growing tension.

For a few minutes, though it seemed like hours, Jason laid his head against the wall and simply stared into space. _How do I get out of this mess?_ That thought ran through his head multiple times, and each time it went unanswered. There didn't seem to be any way out. Aside from the doors that led him to the waiting room there was only one other exit: an identical set of sliding doors lay to the right. From what he could see through the small glass panes on the doors, they led into a thin hallway filled with doctor's offices. However, any fledgling hopes of escape he may have had were shattered when the doors suddenly opened and two officers walked through them. For a minute or so they glared at the crowd, standing stock still and saying nothing. They left as abruptly as they came, passing through the same doors.

"Yesterday they took one of us back there." The man to Jason's left, an aged man with little hair and wiry arms, suddenly spoke up. "Some woman with raven hair. Haven't seen her since. Dunno what they did with her."

Jason looked confused as he replied. "But why? Why the hell are any of us here?"

"I'll bet it has to do with the meteorite," said the brown-haired forty-something man sitting nearby.

"Has to be," the old man agreed. "I've lived here my whole life and nothing like this ever happened before."

Jason sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "The meteorite…"

 **January 1** **st** **, 2000: At 05:32 PM CST a meteor suddenly streaked across the sky over downtown Bolum. No radar and no observatory detected the meteor prior to its entry into Earth's atmosphere. Many American news reports after the fact agreed that the meteor seemingly 'came from nowhere'. The meteor, estimated to be 18 meters in diameter, exploded shortly after its detection, releasing a blast equivalent to roughly 500 kilotons of TNT that damaged over a thousand buildings in multiple Bolum communities, including Erend, Jaywell, and Berrington Park. 512 injuries were reported, but no deaths were confirmed. Additional structural damage was reported by several small rocks that splintered off of the meteor after its explosion. The full extent of the damage has yet to be confirmed.**

"They did segregate the whole area that it exploded over," the brown-haired man said.

"I heard rumors. My son was telling me that they set up a blockade around the whole city, not just the impact site. 'No one's getting in or out', he said."

"Yeah, the guys at work were sayin' the same thing. Didn't believe em' then, but…"

Jason put his hand to his chin. _I've heard that too. But I don't know anyone who's tried to leave. Is it true? Why would they wanna keep us here? Why round us up like this?_

"Maybe they think we're irradiated or something," the old man continued. "Cosmic rays, or something."

"I don't know," the brown-haired man replied. "I just need to get back home. My wife's probably worried sick…"

 _I just want the hell out of here…_

A woman who shared that sentiment ran for the right set of doors and frantically pounded on them. "Let me out of here! I want out! You can't keep me here!" In pure hysteria she kept shouting the same things over and over, all the while beating on the doors as hard as she could.

Before long the doors opened and two officers stormed into the room. The woman took a few steps back, then suddenly her eyes narrowed and she lunged toward the officers with a yell. The left officer reached into a pouch on his belt and produced a small dark grey object shaped like a flashlight. He plunged it into the woman's neck with a stabbing motion and she immediately fell to the floor, her face contorting in pain as her body shook uncontrollably. By that time the entire room had gone silent. The officer put his stun gun away and addressed the group. "If you attempt to resist we cannot guarantee your safety. Please bear with us. It is for your own good." A few among the crowd responded with jeers and demands. "You assholes!" "We have our rights!" "Let us go home!" The officers ignored them and left the room, closing the doors tight behind them.

Jason joined in with "You pieces of shit!", and was sorely tempted to run at them and try to force his way through the door, but he simply bit his lip and sat back down. _Besides,_ he thought, _there's no point in just rushing them when I don't know how many of them there are, or where they're stationed. Gotta wait for the right moment…_ A couple of people ran over to the incapacitated woman and helped her to her feet. Still groggy, she limply moved her head back and forth as they wrapped her arms around their shoulders and moved her to a spot near a wall. The old man with the braids let out a crazy-sounding guffaw. Obviously he either enjoyed the sight or didn't understand it. The rest of the group slowly went back to their business, though not without a new undercurrent of dread.

* * *

Time passed. It felt like three hours but he couldn't be sure; the wall's monotonous waves of white went unbroken by any windows or clocks. His phone had been confiscated as well, back when his 'escorts' first apprehended him. He missed the feeling of having it in his pocket and the strange sense of security it gave him. _It doesn't matter much,_ he thought bitterly. Even if he could contact the few friends he had made in Bolum, they wouldn't be able to help him. The only other phone number he had was his mother's, and he had even less faith in her.

Letting out a deep sigh he looked around the room again, as he had done several times since his incarceration. Their positions had changed around but his fellow inmates looked much the same: random strangers trying to cope with a frightening situation. Most of them had taken to conversation, sharing stories about themselves or their families, or even talking about mundane things like movies or sports, anything that would make their predicament seem more normal. Jason realized then why the crowd felt so distant: he couldn't and didn't want to see this as normal.

 _If I make this my 'normal', then they've beaten me. I can't just pretend that everything will be alright if I sit tight like a good little boy and wait. If I change my normal, I'm admitting defeat!_

The sounds of opening doors interrupted Jason's silent proclamation. Three officers entered, each holding a large plastic tray from which they handed out food. A paper bowl full of wheat noodles, a plastic spoon, and a large Styrofoam cup of water was to be the prisoners' meal. Most of the recipients ravenously devoured their meal as soon as they got it. The officer that approached Jason's corner gave a meal to everyone else on the wall, but when Jason's turn came he hesitated. Putting Jason's meal back on his tray, he glared at the boy before turning and leaving the room. Jason recognized him as the officer whose face he had spit in earlier, and despite his gnawing hunger he said nothing. A few among the group turned to look at Jason, curious as to what he had done to anger the officer. Jason did his best not to look at any of them.

As he stared at the floor, doing his best to ignore the pains in his empty stomach, he imagined himself tackling the officer and beating him until he relinquished his food. Even knowing that he was outnumbered and outgunned Jason started to wish he had done so. He clenched his teeth as he struggled to hold in his anger.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't notice the woman that sat down beside him. She was about Jason's height, around 180 centimeters, but thin as a rail. Her striped lime green sweater and matching pants covered most of her ivory skin. Despite her hair, dyed bright pink and swept back into a ponytail, she looked about twice Jason's age. She placed a bowl of noodles and a cup of water on the floor and gently pushed them towards Jason.

"Here, eat."

Jason glanced at the meal, then back at the floor. "I'm not hungry."

"Don't lie to your elders. Go on, eat." The woman's soft alto voice sounded compassionate even as she made demands.

Again Jason looked at the food, which grew more tantalizing by the second. "What about you?"

"I already ate some, I'm fine. Now eat."

Jason relented and picked up the noodles. He tried to eat them slowly but with every bite the aching in his stomach dulled. Even if the noodles tasted utterly plain eating them felt immensely satisfying, and he ate faster and faster until the bowl was empty. The water disappeared even quicker; several long gulps finished it within seconds.

The woman grinned as Jason completed his meal. "My name's Donna. And you?"

Donna seemed trustworthy to Jason, but he wasn't completely convinced. He also wondered if the officials had placed secret microphones or cameras in the walls. He was picked up off the street, and he had no identification on him at the time. As far as he knew, no one there knew his name yet and he wanted to keep it that way. Luckily he had a pseudonym ready: a nickname his father gave him years ago, one that he made by combining Jason's initials with his last name.

"It's Jojo."

"That's a unique name. Okay Jojo, how long have you lived here?"

Jason waited a few moments before answering. "…About a year."

"Do you live in this neighborhood?"

Though he did indeed live nearby, Jason didn't see any reason to tell her that. "You mean Basinville? You sound like you're not from around here."

Donna chuckled a bit. "I've lived in Bolum my whole life, but I just moved to Basinville recently when I got a new job."

 _By shifting the topic, now I don't have to tell her about myself,_ Jason noted slyly. "What kind of job?"

"I'm a high school teacher," Donna stated in a prideful tone. "I've been a teacher for nine years now."

Jason's gaze softened a bit. "What do you like about teaching? Seems to me like it'd be a pain in the ass."

"Sometimes," Donna said with a smile. "But I love it. People tend to think that teaching is just about passing along knowledge, but I see more to it than that. It's about stimulating growing minds, and getting students to wonder."

Donna began to gesticulate as she explained. "You can tell a student what 'pH' means, but what good does it do them in the long run? They might memorize what the range is for acidic or basic pH, but to what end? To pass a test and go on to the next one? I want to make them wonder about their existence, to realize how everything in life is connected. Think about the human body. Blood, urine, gastric acid, all of them have a radically different pH, but they all coexist without affecting one another. They teeter on a delicate scale that, if tipped either way, would ravage the human body. Everyone carries inside them this careful balance of various elements, all unconsciously regulated. All of life ultimately boils down to balance! Your fears are balanced by your desires. One person's fortune is balanced by someone else's loss. And every death is balanced with a new life. Just like the body, we all unknowingly move toward equilibrium!"

Though Donna's theory sounded intriguing if not overthought, Jason's words were replete with skepticism. "You honestly think life is fair and balanced? Are you saying I deserve to be trapped in here right now?"

Donna looked surprised and shook her hands. "Not at all! I'm not saying either of us deserves to be stuck here. But I believe that my inconvenience is balanced by these guards' duty. I'm sure there's a reason they're keeping us here." She clasped her hands together and brought them down on her lap. The excitement in her face quickly turned into a pensive gaze. "Whenever something bad happens I try to think how it's bringing some sort of fortune to someone else. The job I didn't get helped the teacher that filled that position. When I was mugged a year ago the money I lost helped the man who took it. When my grandmother died it taught my family to cherish one another for the time we have. It may sound like wishful thinking, but I honestly believe that we're all connected in ways that we can't always understand."

"I see. It's an interesting way to think about it." Words of disbelief snaked their way into Jason's throat, but he resolved not to say them. _I don't wanna start a fight with the one person here that's willing to help me._ He let out a soft sigh and released some of the tension in his shoulders. "Anyway, you think the meteor is why we're in here?"

"I don't know. It's certainly an odd coincidence… but I think there's some kind of emergency going on. I tried calling my parents and my grandpa, both who live out of state, and I never could reach them. The call never went through. Something must have happened with the phone lines. That and all the military running around… I guess they're military…"

She cleared her throat, her smile returning. "But enough about that. I wanna know about you. Tell me about yourself!"

He looked off to the side and remained awkwardly silent. This did little to deter Donna, who playfully nudged him with her elbow. "C'mon, you don't have to be shy. I wouldn't be much of a teacher if you couldn't confide in me."

The doors opened and two guards walked about the room picking up the leftover cups and utensils. Jason stared at them all the while. They seemed so alien, holding paper bowls in black gloved hands and stomping across the floor in combat boots, carrying pistols at their side. They were gone in less than two minutes. Even after they had left Jason looked fixedly at the doors they exited through, as if he could bore a hole in them if he stared hard enough.

"I don't blame you for worrying, but you should try to relax." Donna put a reassuring hand on Jason's shoulder. "I can tell how tense you are. It's not good for you, especially as young as you are. I realize I'm a stranger to you, and if you don't want to talk to me I understand. But know that I'm all ears if you wanna talk about anything." Donna's concern seemed genuine. The compassion in her eyes was palpable. Jason's suspicion of her rapidly waned, replaced with twinges of guilt for having doubted her. Before he could say anything he heard a voice in his ears. The words were as clear as if he had said them himself.

"-thing new to report. All clear."

A second voice immediately followed. It sounded more distant and was distorted with static, the kind one would hear on a faulty radio.

"kkkkkkk…Copy that. Remain alert. Have confirmed sightings in Basinville. Proceeding w-kkk…caution."

Donna could see the confusion on Jason's face. "What's wrong?"

"Did you hear that just now? Two voices, one sounded like it came through a hand radio."

"I didn't hear anything, Jojo."

Putting the side of his hand to his chin, Jason tried in vain to rationalize what had just happened. It was far too loud, too close to dismiss as his imagination. No one around him reacted to it. "I… I know I just heard voices… I know that makes me sound crazy. And trying to justify how you're not crazy just makes you sound crazier. But I'm sure I…"

The taste of chocolate forced its way into Jason's mouth. There was no mistaking it; the velvety sweet yet slightly bitter flavor of dark chocolate filled his taste buds. It had no texture, no physical weight, and Jason opened his mouth wide and dug through it with his hand to confirm it. His mouth was empty; he swallowed and felt nothing go down his throat. But that taste of chocolate was unmistakable.

 _I haven't had chocolate in days! How can I be tasting it now?_ Jason looked nervously across the room like he could find some magical answer to his question if he looked hard enough. "I'm alright. Everything's fine, everything's fine." The more he muttered these words to himself the more he began to believe them. Soon the taste began to disappear, and with it a little of his worry.

Then Jason saw himself.

He was looking down at himself, like another him was standing in front of him. He could see his short brown hair, his red jacket emblazoned with a single golden star, his blue and white sneakers. He could see the faint traces of hair on his hands, the small scar below his right ear, the faded spot on the left knee of his jeans. He could see his brown eyes and the fear reflected in them.

Suddenly the vision vanished.

"Are… you sure you're okay?" Donna put her palm on Jason's forehead as if to feel for a fever. _Is the stress getting to him? Making him hallucinate?_ Donna could see the panic rising in Jason's face; sweat appeared on his skin as it grew paler, his eyes grew wider and he stammered as he tried to respond.

"I-I don't know what's going on… I'm hearing, feeling, seeing things that aren't there… I'm just tired. It's been… a long day, after all. I'm just tired, need to sleep. Just...need sleep…" Jason tried to look calm and in control, but his anxious heavy breathing betrayed him.

"Hey! We need medical attention in here! This boy needs help!" Donna yelled but no one came.

"Don't waste your time," the bodybuilder on the other side of the room yelled back. "I've been in here for like a week and they don't do shit but feed us. Didn't you seem em' drop that woman earlier? They don't give a damn about us. Their sergeant or boss or whatever's got a hell of a temper. I wouldn't make him mad if I were you."

Donna turned back to Jason, looking nearly as worried as he did. "Talk to me, are you okay?"

He could feel the strength being drained from his body as his anxiety dulled into exhaustion. He slowly slid down the wall as his labored breaths began to stabilize. A memory rose to the top of Jason's mind, one that he hadn't spared any thought until now. His mouth slowly turned upward into a small bitter smile. "A couple years ago… my mom said 'This family's cursed. You, me, all of us.' She was… drunk out of her mind… like she always is… but now I'm starting to believe her."

Donna wrapped her arms around Jason and pulled him into a tight embrace. He didn't fight it.

* * *

Only when Jason woke up did he realize that he had fallen asleep. His head was resting on Donna's shoulder. He slowly lifted it off of her, careful not to disturb her slumber. The bizarre sights and voices were gone, at least for the moment. That fact alone helped put Jason at ease. Most everyone else in the room had followed their lead and dozed off, either sprawled on the floor or sitting propped against a wall. It felt like early morning for some reason.

"Have you seen a spirit?"

Jason turned to the source of the voice: the old man with braided hair. With an unflinching stride the old man approached, stopping just inches in front of him. Jason stood up, putting himself between Donna and the stranger.

"I've seen spirits, ya know." The braided man's voice was lilting and carefree, and not nearly as haggard as one would expect by looking at him. "Weird stuff happens all the time! Sometimes ya just can't explain it except with spirits!"

Jason sighed. Looking the braided man over, he took him to be homeless. Aside from his strange hair and his mannerisms were his clothes, a tattered grey open vest worn over a buttoned-up flannel shirt and brown cargo shorts held with a belt, all of which looked like they were a size too big. _I don't have time to entertain a crazy old man. Just tell him what he wants to hear._

"Yeah man." Jason scratched his head. "Spirits are all over the place. So many people see ghosts all the time. It's not like they all conspired to lie. One time I lost the spare key to my apartment, even though I know I put it on the dresser before I went to sleep. I bet a spirit took it." He barely made any effort to hide his sarcastic tone, but the braided man didn't seem to pick up on it.

"I knew you'd understand!" The braided man seemed giddy at Jason's answer. "Here, I can show ya something weird! If you believe in spirits you like weird stuff too, right?" Reaching into his pocket, the braided man produced a single noodle and a plastic fork. "Hid these from the guard!" He slowly placed them on the ground one at a time, then gazed at Jason with eyes as wide as saucers. "Now pierce that noodle with the fork! Go on, try it!"

He considered telling the old man to get lost, but something about his earnestness compelled him to do what he said, just for the sake of seeing how he would react. He picked up the fork and stabbed at the noodle… but the fork didn't go through it. He tried twice more but the fork simply bounced off. Perplexed, Jason raised his arm and brought the fork down on the noodle with the force one would use to swing a hammer. The noodle was still as soft as the ones he had eaten earlier, but he couldn't drive the fork into it no matter how hard he tried.

He looked up at the braided man, who sported a large toothy grin. "That's a cute trick. You dulled the fork somehow, right?"

"Nope! I got a spirit in me! Possessed, I tell ya!" The braided man crouched down and untied one of Jason's sneakers. The sheer spontaneity of his actions left Jason unsure of how to react. "Now try to tie it! Betcha can't do it!"

His curiosity growing, Jason leaned down and began to tie his shoe. It was as simple a task as it ever was. The moment he finished the knot it fell apart. The shoelaces slid off of one another in one smooth motion until Jason was right back where he started. He tried again, pulling the laces hard to make certain the knot was tight. The same thing happened.

"Hehehe! Don't you youngsters know how to tie your own shoes? Here, I'll fix it for ya! Watch closely!"

When the old man reached over to touch Jason's shoe, something else followed him. A ghostly forearm floated right next to the old man's own. Translucent, its borders seemed to shimmer as it moved perfectly in sync with the old man. It was about as slim as the old man's arm, but in place of skin were what looked like small indigo rectangular beams; they were neatly stacked on top of one another, crisscrossing at perpendicular angles to make up the shape of a human arm. Connected to the arm was an indigo hand with no visible creases. Even as the old man's arm stopped halfway to Jason's shoe the ghostly arm kept moving, reaching out with long smoothly rounded fingers.

With a heavy gasp Jason jerked his foot back with such force that he nearly fell over backwards. The ghost arm stopped moving. Jason blinked several times but there it remained, floating in the air. He stood rooted to the spot, struggling to process what he was seeing.

The braided man stood back up. His wide grin had morphed into a sly smile, and his eyes now carried the sharpness of a man who was full of secrets. He spoke in a calm measured tone. "So you finally noticed."

Jason managed to make himself speak. "What is that thing?! What did you just do?!"

"I told you already. It's a spirit. One that I control."

Before Jason could sputter out a response, the old man put a finger to his lips. "Keep your voice down. Panicking didn't do you any good earlier, did it? No man ever accomplished anything by flying into a frenzy. And I ain't about to let you get me caught. Now take some breaths and I'll explain."

Jason did as the braided man ordered. He glanced around the room. No one else seemed to have taken note of anything that had just happened. A couple of people on the opposite wall were wide awake and looking right at them, but neither of them paid the ghost arm any attention whatsoever.

They both sat down and the braided man began to explain.

"Like you said, spirits are all over the place. What you saw was mine, or part of it anyway." The braided man held up his arm and the ghost arm followed it. "I can call it and dismiss it as I please." Without the slightest bit of effort on the old man's part the ghost arm faded away in an instant. "I've traveled all over the country and I've met a handful of people who can do the same thing, who got their own spirit. One of them explained it to me this way: 'That spirit is a part of you, a manifestation of your inner self.' Basically, it's as 'me' as I'm 'me'." He pointed a bony finger at Jason, putting it inches from his face. "And since you can see it, that means you have one too."

Jason looked down at himself. Innumerable thoughts raced through his mind, some of them expressing incredulity as to what was happening. However, deep down he knew that he couldn't deny what he just saw. This wasn't a dream or a hallucination, he was certain of that if nothing else. Somehow that knowledge focused his mind enough to reply. "You said I have a spirit too? How do you know that? What makes you so sure? I don't… feel a spirit in me."

A smirk rose and fell on the braided man's face. "These spirits can only be seen or felt by other people who have them. If you saw it, even for a second, then that means you've got one, whether you know it or not. I heard you acting up earlier, saying that you were seeing and hearing things that you shouldn't be. That got me wondering, so I played the fool to confirm it. And I was right. Guess you just can't control it yet."

"Then… how do I control it?"

"That's the question. It 'wakes up' in different people at different times. I've had mine as long as I can remember. So I dunno if I can help you there. You'll just have to try."

Jason gestured with his hands, frustrated that he couldn't quite articulate his question. "I mean… what exactly IS the spirit? You say it's me, but that I can't control it? Then how is it me?"

"An old friend of mine said it better than I could." The braided man's eyes darted upward as he spoke, as if recalling a fond memory. "'Of all the billions of men who've lived on this earth, how many of them have truly walked? The soul is a sprawling mass of unexplained phenomena that threatens to crush our minds underfoot. Lives are created and dismissed on a mass scale every day, and nearly all of them leave this earth never knowing what they truly are. Philosophy was created specifically to solve this problem, but how much closer are we to an answer? Far too many men go about their days buried under the weight of this burden without ever even realizing it. They are but infants forced to crawl beneath the waves of their own ignorance, forever oblivious to their place in this world. This talent that we share is a rare gift: the ability to reach inside of ourselves and expose our very soul. We can confront what we truly are… and then grow beyond. If the common man can do nothing but crawl… then this is the power to stand.'

"I've never forgotten that speech. My power… my Stand… has let me see things I never thought I'd see, and do things I never thought I could do. Your Stand will wake up soon, I bet. And when it does, we can do something we both wanna do: get the hell out of here."

Jason gazed at his own hands in utter awe, opening them and closing them as though he had just noticed them for the first time. When the braided man's words had fully sunk in, Jason looked up with eyes full of determination. His fears and worries went somewhere far away; only his desire for freedom remained.

"That's what I like to see," the braided man grinned. He clapped his hands together. "So first things first, what's your name? And don't give me that paranoid crap! I'm not about to work with someone whose name I don't know. If you saw a dish at a buffet and the waiter told you 'that dish has no name', would you wanna eat it? I wanna know what I'm getting into here!"

"...Point taken," Jason said awkwardly _._ "My name's..."

"Crap! I've been eating those noodles all this time! What brand noodles were they? Bastards didn't even tell me!"

"...Jojo." _Is the 'crazy old man' thing REALLY an act?_

The braided man calmed down immediately. "My name's Sawyer. I'll show you my whole Stand if you promise not to freak out again."

Turning a bit red, Jason nodded.

A ghostly humanoid figure materialized next to Sawyer, hovering a centimeter or so off the ground. It was roughly the same height and build as Sawyer himself, but that was where the similarities ended. The structure of its legs was identical to that of its arms; they seemed to be built out of thin rectangular indigo beams stacked atop one another. They called to mind a child's game where blocks are stacked on each other in order to make a tower. The Stand's torso, slightly darker than its limbs, looked reasonably normal with one exception: a large black keyhole stared out from the center of its chest. It seemed to be solid black, and nothing could be seen within it. On its waist was what appeared to be a belt, or at least a belt-like protrusion, and attached to that was a ring full of silver keys of varying size. Its head looked incredibly smooth, and it wore a sort of mask composed of the same type of indigo blocks, though these were scarce enough to leave gaps where one could see parts of the Stand's face. It had solid yellow eyes and a stoic expression.

"This is my Stand. Its name is 「CLEAN BANDIT」." The pride on Sawyer's face was evident. "Stands give their Users a sort of power, a certain something that no one else can do. Basically, my power is to make things 'unusable'. For instance, take a good look at your shoe."

Jason took off his untied shoe and examined it. On the heel he found something peculiar: a small black keyhole. Sawyer snatched the shoe out of his hands as Clean Bandit took a tiny key off of its key ring. It held the key up to the shoe's keyhole, and a moment later both the key and keyhole had vanished. "Now you can tie it again," Sawyer said as he handed the shoe back to Jason. Sure enough, he put it back on and tied it as though nothing had been done to it.

Clean Bandit faded away as Sawyer pointed toward the nearest set of doors. "If I used my Stand on those doors no one would be able to open them unless I 'unlocked' them. That wouldn't stop someone from kicking them down or blowing them up, though. It only keeps objects from being used in their intended way."

"And you're saying that when I get my Stand, I'll have some kind of power too?"

"You will. It'll be different from mine, though. No telling what it could be. But when you've got it, we can bust out of here. I could get out by myself, but Clean Bandit isn't the greatest at straightforward fighting. Besides, with the two of us our odds'll be better."

"Three of us," Jason said matter-of-factly. He gestured toward the sleeping Donna. "She's coming with us."

Sawyer's hopeful expression became a disapproving grimace. "No she isn't. She doesn't have powers like we do, does she? She'll just slow us down."

Jason stepped toward Sawyer, putting him right up next to his face. "It doesn't matter. I'll protect her."

Sawyer groaned, looking at Jason like he just said something profoundly stupid. "Look kid, she's safer in here than with us. You think they're just gonna let us walk out? I've been here for days. They won't seriously hurt civilians, but us? They'll kill us if need be. You don't even know what your Stand IS yet. How are you gonna protect her? I'm sorry, but she has to stay."

Before Jason could say anything else Sawyer jerked his head toward the doors, like he was expecting something to happen. "It's almost five o'clock. I can keep time in my head. From four-thirty to five there are fewer guards out than any other time. At least as far as I can tell. That's why I picked now to talk to you. Now here's the deal: When you're ready, when you've got a handle on your Stand, tell me. After that, the next time four-thirty in the morning hits, we'll discuss how we're gonna get out of here. Until then I'm gonna act like a crazy old codger that doesn't know you. Got it?"

He was angry about Sawyer's order to leave Donna behind, but he couldn't refuse his offer to help him escape either. He gave a resolute nod, but grabbed Sawyer's shoulder as he turned to leave. "One more question. If you've got a power like that, how did the guards catch you? Shouldn't you be able to take them on?"

Sawyer leaned in closer, speaking softly and quickly. "It's true. Normal people can't hurt or even see Stands. But I let myself get caught. I wanted to be brought here. I was looking for someone, but it doesn't look like they're here anymore."

"Who were you looking for?"

"That's my problem, not yours."

* * *

The next few hours were restless ones. Jason did little but sit and stare at the walls. Even as the others woke up, apparently still guided by their internal clocks, Jason paid them no heed. He had to figure out how to call his Stand. Everything hinged on it.

Holding up his right arm, he clenched his fist and stared intently at it. Closing his eyes, Jason thought back to his earlier years. He thought about his dad, whom he hadn't seen since he was nine. He thought about his mother, a once devoutly religious woman who had become nothing more than a miserable shell of her former self, constantly drowning herself in alcohol. He thought about the school he attended back in Iowa, all of the classes he missed out of sheer apathy, all of the potential friends that he had chased away with his behavior. And still nothing. Not even for a moment could he see his Stand. He threw his head back against the wall with a thump. _I've tried happy thoughts, sad ones, angry ones, meditating... nothing is working. How do I activate this damn thing?_

The thump must have roused Donna from her sleep, for she snorted and lifted her head, looking a bit groggy. "Unnhh... good morning Jojo..." she said with a yawn. She shook her head vigorously in an attempt to wake herself up. "Are you feeling better today?"

"Y-yeah, I feel much better. Guess the sleep really did help." Jason smiled and added a heartfelt "Thank you."

Donna returned his smile. While she took the scrunchie out of her hair and ran her fingers through it Jason went back to his thoughts. _How am I gonna explain this to her? Would she even believe me? Maybe the old man was right...  
_

The doors opened and three guards entered in their usual rigid gait. They passed out food; this time bread and a small cup of butter along with the water. One of the guards approached Jason and Donna and waved for the other two to leave. It was the same man who had denied Jason his dinner. Once the other two were gone the guard pointed at the boy.

"Apologize." His tone was even but the terseness of his command betrayed his hostility. "If you apologize for spitting in my face, I'll give you your meal and forget it ever happened."

Jason glanced at Donna, who looked uncertain as to what to say. Then he stole a glance at Sawyer, who sat on the wall to his left. For a split second the daft look in his eyes changed to a glare that seemed to say 'Don't you dare screw this up!'. With a deep sigh Jason grumbled "I'm sorry."

"I'm not convinced. Now get on your knees and do it again."

"This is unnecessary! You don't have the right to take away his food!" Donna objected in an indignant tone that Jason didn't know she was even capable of.

Ignoring her, the officer repeated his command. Jason gritted his teeth, then got on his hands and knees with such hesitation that one would have thought his body was moving against his will. He bowed his head. "I'm SORRY."

With a smug look the officer gently tapped Jason on the head with his boot. "That's better. That's a good boy."

"Fuck you..." Jason muttered underneath his breath.

Suddenly the officer flew into a rage. He kicked Jason in the head, knocking him against the wall, then kicked him in his exposed stomach. "You little shit! You know how hard this job is?! I got pulled from my detail to work in this shithole city with all the freaks running around outside, and I'm not about to let some street trash like you make a fool out of me!" He rammed his foot into Jason's stomach a second time.

The blow to his head put Jason in a daze for a few moments, but the kicks to his stomach soon hit him like a wave. He coughed and hacked as the pain radiated through him. Though every part of him wanted to get up and fight back, he forced himself to stay down. _I can't ruin this. I have to wait it out... I have to take it!_

"Stop it!" Donna threw herself at the guard and punched him in his face. The guard acted like he barely felt the blow. Seeing her try in vain to defend him hurt Jason more than his wounds. He tried to tell her to stop but only more coughs came out.

"Don't touch me you filthy bitch!" The officer grabbed Donna by the throat and lurched her forward before throwing her backward. She cried out as her head plowed into the hard stone wall.

The last remnants of Jason's self-control shattered. He climbed back to his feet as though his pain didn't exist. If looks could kill, the fury in Jason's eyes would have stopped the officer's heart. With a yell Jason lunged forward, ready to throw a punch.

"Try it you little basta..." The force of the punch did more than silence the officer. Trails of blood ran down from his nose. A tooth dropped from his mouth. "W...w-what?! WHAT?!" He stammered in utter shock.

It wasn't Jason that punched him. It was his Stand.

There it stood, within the small gap between Jason and his opponent, its mighty arm outstretched, its red-gloved fist buried in the officer's face. It was a humanoid Stand with a brilliant crimson body. The detailed musculature present on its arms and legs gave it a commanding presence. Its boot-shaped feet hovered just above the floor. Throughout its chiseled body were several small black armor-like plates in the shape of diamonds, each one covering a small part of its chest or back. The armored plates overlapped one another and were arranged in a cross pattern, the 'arms' of which wrapped around its torso. On its face was a thin black mark in the shape of the Greek letter **Σ.** The mark completely hid its right eye and mouth. Its remaining eye, though it contained a red pupil, looked otherwise identical to Jason's. **  
**

Wordlessly, effortlessly, Jason commanded his Stand to retract its arm. It did so. It immediately threw another punch at the officer, ramming its fist into his face with just as much force as it did before. Then it threw another punch. Then another, and another. Then it kept going. The punches came faster and faster until Jason could hardly keep up with them. As its fists flew it let out a frenzied yell, one that grew in pitch and intensity the longer it lasted.

"ORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORA!"

With its final punch Jason's Stand knocked the officer across the room. He landed just shy of the wall, but the sheer force of the blow made his body slide into it headfirst. He yelled in agony before passing out. The other prisoners screamed in surprise and fear. From their point of view, an officer was blown into a wall by a malevolent unseen force. Their shrieks quickly summoned guards.

"I swear, if Grayson's losing his temper again I'm gonna..." The guards stopped dead when they saw what had happened to Grayson. One rushed to his side while the other one drew his pistol. The prisoners may not have understood what happened, but they knew who to blame. "It was him, that boy!" "That kid in the red jacket!" "He's possessed!"

Jason knelt down to help Donna. Aside from the bump on the back of her head, she seemed alright. "Donna, we have to get out of here. We're gonna..."

He heard a loud bang. A bullet whizzed by him and implanted itself in the wall, in a brick inches away from his head. He heard one of the officers yell at him. "That was a warning shot! Surrender or we will use deadly force!"

Jason's heart skipped a beat. Not because of the bullet itself, but because of the realization that dawned on him as he stared at it. _That brick could have been her._ In that moment he knew Sawyer was right. One wrong move and Donna was dead. She was safer here.

"Donna..."

"I know. I don't want you to do what you're about to do, but I know I can't stop you. I can see the resolve in your eyes. I'm a light sleeper. I heard what you and Sawyer talked about. I heard rumors earlier this week... rumors that people with strange 'powers' were cropping up in different parts of Bolum. I guess it's really true. I don't know what's going on anymore. Sawyer was right, I'd only slow you down. I can't go with you. I have to balance the scale. Your freedom for mine... it's a good trade."

She looked into Jason's eyes and smiled. "Just promise me that you'll stay safe."

Without a word Jason wrapped his arms around Donna and hugged her tight.

"This is your last warning! Step away from the civilian and surrender, or we will open fire!"

Jason slowly raised his hands in the air and stood up. As the troops cautiously approached him, guns drawn, he looked over at Sawyer. "It's time to walk."

Sawyer couldn't help but grin. "Guess we're doing this now rather than later!" He jumped to his feet with a spryness belonging to a man half his age and dashed towards the two guards. By the time they had noticed him and turned their guns on him he had already summoned his Stand. "Clean Bandit!" The indigo apparition reached for the two pistols, touching them and pulling a silver key out of each one.

"Open fire!" Both guards pulled the triggers of their guns and heard clicks. They frantically tried again and again to fire but to no avail. Jason turned around and within half a second the officer to the right ate a fist and was knocked out cold. Instead of giving the other officer the same treatment, Jason's Stand held up its right hand, its fingers open and its palm in the officer's face. Jason knew what to do instinctively, the way a spider knows how to spin a web without ever being shown. A small conical dart-like object about the size of a tack shot from the Stand's palm and embedded itself into the officer's face. The officer couldn't see it, and the impact felt like a mosquito bite, so he was none the wiser. Jason motioned for Sawyer to follow and they fled through the open doors.

Three more guards met them right outside the doors, charging at them with guns at the ready. Jason punched the first two guards into the third, knocking them down long enough for the duo to step over them. Sawyer disabled their guns along the way for good measure. They reached a fork in the hallway, allowing them to go either straight or right. Sawyer immediately started down the right path, but Jason grabbed him by his collar and pulled him back behind the wall.

"Are you crazy?! The exit's right there! We can get out of here now before reinforcements show up!" Sawyer loudly insisted on going out the main entrance even as Jason dragged him along as he ran down the straight hallway, which soon opened up into another empty waiting room. With frenetic voices behind them yelling for backup they ran for the emergency exit, and with a mighty kick Jason's Stand forced it open. Beyond it was a long flight of stairs that ran the entire length of the six-floor clinic. They traversed two sets of stairs and went through the exit, putting them on the second floor. Clean Bandit sealed the door behind them.

They were in another dark hallway. No guards could be seen or heard. Sawyer grabbed Jason's shoulder and turned him around. "You wanna explain what that stunt was back there?! The exit was right there! You're gonna get us killed if you keep making stupid decisions like that!"

Despite Sawyer's exasperated tone Jason's response was quiet and thoughtful. "Didn't you think it was strange that there weren't any guards down that hallway, even though it's right before the main entrance?" Sawyer looked befuddled at the question. "That guard that I didn't punch back there had a radio. I noticed it on him when I turned to hit him. So instead I used this." Jason's Stand held out its palm and shot another dart, this time into the floor. "I knew that guard would call for backup on the radio. This is what he said: 'Two of them! There's two with powers here! They're near the entrance!' After that, someone on the radio replied 'We've got nine men surrounding the outside entrance. Sending five more to swamp them. They won't leave alive.' That's how I knew not to take that route."

Sawyer looked even more befuddled. "How did you know all that?"

Jason looked over at his Stand. "I heard him. That's what this Stand's power is. It's the same as when I heard that radio conversation from yesterday; I heard it through someone else's ears. When I tasted chocolate, though I didn't notice it at first, there was a little kid there eating a chocolate bar. I tasted what he tasted. And when I saw myself, like I was having an out-of-body experience, I was looking through the eyes of my Stand."

Spotting a painting on the wall, Jason walked over to admire it. It depicted a scenic summer day, complete with laughing children and a breeze gently scattering leaves across the ground. He stared at it longingly for a few moments, then quickly turned back to Sawyer with a defiant but confident gaze. "A schizophrenic... that's someone that sees and hears things that aren't there, right? That's my power! To see, hear, and feel what 'isn't there'! That is my Stand! 「SCHIZOID MAN」!"

* * *

 **-To-Be-Continued-**


	2. Behind The Knife (1)

**Behind The Knife (1)**

* * *

Jason and Sawyer ran down the darkened hallway. A large regal rug covered the entire floor, muffling the runaways' footsteps as they trod upon it. A voice blared in Jason's ears, saying "Civilians and first floor secured! Send…" The voice faded into nothing mid-sentence. _I guess Schizoid Man's ability has a limit…_ Jason mused before addressing Sawyer. "They've secured the bottom floor! We gotta find a different way around!"

"They've probly already got guards at every exit on the first floor," Sawyer replied. "We can't go back down there."

"Then how do we get out of here?"

A cylindrical grenade flew at them from around the corner, landing a meter away from their feet. Smoke sprayed out of it, caking the air until the path ahead was completely obscured. Coughing, Jason fruitlessly swatted at the air until Sawyer grabbed him by the arm and pulled him through a door to the right. The moment Clean Bandit slammed the door shut and locked it a hail of gunfire filled the hall.

They were in a large room with carpeting and little else, likely some sort of auditorium or meeting room. Sawyer wasted no time and dashed for the door on the other side of the room. "We gotta stay away from wide open spaces! If they catch us in here we've got nowhere to hide!" Behind him Jason could hear movement: first loud thuds, then a soft bustling, like something was being placed against the door. Jason bolted to the opposite door. As they exited the room an explosion obliterated the first door, splintering it into charred chunks of wood.

A guard was waiting for them outside, but by the time he raised his gun Clean Bandit had disabled it and punched with its free arm. It was obvious that Clean Bandit lacked Schizoid Man's brute strength; the haymaker it threw barely managed to knock the guard off his feet. A kick to the head from Schizoid Man finished the job and knocked him out.

Continuing on the duo reached a flight of stairs, which seemed to anger Sawyer. "Dammit, isn't there a window on this floor somewhere?" A moment later a group of three officers had spotted them, firing shots that narrowly missed their targets. They were forced to flee up the stairs to the next floor.

Jason was furnished with a thought as they ran. "Can't I use my Stand to block the bullets?"

Sawyer shook his head. "Only if you're fast enough. Stands are immaterial; you have to make them interact with the physical world. Otherwise bullets will just pass right through."

Once on the third floor, a world of plain grey tiling, Sawyer motioned for Jason to hide behind the wall next to the staircase. Once their pursuers reached them Schizoid Man stiffened its right arm and swung. It hit all of them at once and knocked them back down the stairs as easily as a log would fell bowling pins.

They were safe for the moment: no guards in sight. Rather than running they creeped as quickly as they could across the room to keep their footsteps from echoing off the floor. Outpacing Jason, Sawyer spotted a window in the corner and made a bee-line for it. He crouched below it and poked his head up just enough to get a glimpse outside. The frustration on his face was evident. "I knew it, there's vans out there! They called for reinforcements! Even if we get outta here those vans can catch up to us in no time!"

Jason tempered his nervous dread with a deep breath. "I'm gonna go back for a radio," he said, turning back toward the staircase. "If I'm quick I can grab one off one of the guards I knocked out. That way we can…"

The sound of glass being shattered by a great force startled interrupted him. Startled, Jason whipped around to see a broken window with Sawyer nowhere in sight.

He rushed to the window and peered out. He saw a large tree to the right. Its bountiful foliage reached almost as high as the window. If that's where Sawyer fled to he was perfectly hidden within the leaves. In the distance he saw the reinforcements: officers, a dozen if not more, leaping out of several jet black armored vans. One of them motioned toward the broken window and two men next to him aimed rifles at it. Jason took cover behind the wall, avoiding two bullets by a slim margin. He clambered to his feet and ran.

 _Sawyer abandoned me! I should've known not to trust him!_

Jason ran back the way he came and dashed down the stairs, stopping where the last three guards were laying. He pilfered a radio from one of them and returned to the third floor. Multiple sets of heavy footsteps echoed up the stairway after him. Avoiding the broken window, Jason darted in the opposite direction until he found a row of doors. He reached for the knob of the first door, but then thought better of it. He summoned Schizoid Man and stopped briefly at each door, using his Stand to punch them into several pieces. _They'll have to stop and check each room. It'll buy me some time at least._ The echoing footsteps behind him grew louder, so he ducked into the nearby restroom and holed up in the last stall.

The boy pulled out the hand radio and glanced up at the tiled ceiling in contemplation. _If I were a government lackey hunting down an escapee, what would I say?_ He cleared his throat and held down the button on its side. "Engaging target on fourth floor," he declared, deepening his voice as best he could. "We need backup, send backup!" Only silence answered his attempt at subterfuge. "Repeat, send all available men to the fourth floor!" Still nothing. "D-do you copy! Please respond!"

He added a quiet "Goddammit," after ending the call, and then held up the radio to look it over. There was no obvious damage and it seemed perfectly functional. Near the antenna was a dial, a small ridged wheel with the number two at the top. Turning revealed the remaining numbers between one and five, each on a different part of the wheel. A sudden shiver ran down Jason's back. _These are frequencies! They must've anticipated me stealing a radio and switched frequencies!_

Heavy footsteps resounded through the flimsy bathroom door, getting closer every second. A gruff voice quickly replaced them. "Are they sending Balthazar? …How close? …Good. I'll check the bathroom. Move R4 in, have them block all emergency exits. R2 stays with the civilians, R3 continues combing floors. Stay alert."

Every word seemed to lunge out at Jason with all the force of a pouncing tiger. His vulnerability was laid bare: he was trapped, alone in a building full of trained killers. Even if he managed to escape he wasn't sure where he would go. But right then none of that mattered; a new sense of awareness welled up within him, supplanting his anxiety with determination. _I don't care how many of you there are! Your eyes, your ears, all of them are open to me! No matter what you put in front of me, I'll survive! I'm taking back my 'normal'!_

Jason heard the door fly open with a mighty kick. He heard the guard stomp over to the first of five stalls. He heard bullets rip through the stall door, then a thud as it was shoved open. He heard these sounds repeat in quick succession, getting louder and louder as the guard approached. By the fourth repetition the gunfire was deafening. At last the guard reached the last stall. One final time he heard a rain of bullets destroy everything in their path.

A moment later he heard the guard leave empty-handed.

Jason slowly removed the ceiling tile above the last stall and climbed out from the hollow space he had hid in. The bathroom and all its amenities had been annihilated. He took care not to step on any broken porcelain and made his way to the door. Schizoid Man appeared on the other side of the door, acting as an invisible set of eyes for Jason. He scanned the area; the guards that were following him before had finished inspecting the broken doors and left. The only guard nearby had his back turned; he was standing in front of a door with a keypad on its handle. Schizoid Man raised his hand and shot one of its darts at the officer. It silently embedded itself in his leg. Now his vision was free for Jason to use.

Looking through his Stand's eyes felt fairly normal. It was an odd feeling though, seeing through someone else's eyes. Jason had no control over what the officer looked at nor could he hear anything he did, and seeing an unfamiliar pair of arms and legs directly below his line of sight was disconcerting. He was effectively a stranger in another's body, only able to go along for the ride. The officer punched in the code to the lock, and Jason paid close attention. _9, 0, 1, 2, 5, got it._

A small storage room with empty shelves lied beyond the door. The officer glanced to and fro, then began looking through each aisle, carefully inspecting the shelves in search of the escapees. There were no other guards present. Jason switched back to his own eyes, taking a moment to acclimate. He carefully left the bathroom and silently moved over to the storage room, inputting the code. With a small click the electronic lock opened and Jason slipped inside. Before the guard noticed his presence Schizoid Man took him down.

Jason dragged the guard into the far corner and began stripping him of his uniform and equipment. After disrobing, the boy traded his clothes for the guard's. It was all roughly Jason's size, so it didn't take long to put on. He considered putting his own clothes on the guard and passing him off as himself, but the sound of the door sliding open demanded his attention. _Alright, I can do this. It's like the hero in a spy movie; as long as he stays calm and doesn't do something to give himself away, he can sneak right through!_

Another officer entered. He walked up to Jason and said nothing as if expecting a report. Jason looked the man in the eyes and said "No sign of the target." The officer stared him down for a moment, seemingly perplexed, but accepted his answer. "We're checking the fourth floor; he might have slipped by R4 while they were moving." Jason nodded and followed him out, walking in a militant march, or what he considered one at least. He wasn't eager to go up yet another floor, but ignoring orders would look too suspicious, so he followed the officer up the emergency exit. A guard was standing right outside the exit, and another was stationed in front of the next one as well.

The fourth floor looked much the same as the third did, only with brown tiling and glass enclosures surrounding the waiting rooms. Jason 'assisted' the officer, half-heartedly looking around corners and checking inside offices. As they searched Jason casually asked "Should I assist the men outside?" The officer gave him another look before replying. "R1 is already out there. Everyone else stays in here." So he continued his facade and moved from empty room to empty room, careful not to do anything that would seem 'out of character.' His impatience grew until at last the officer addressed him again. "You take the next room, I'll check the closets," he ordered as he jogged off into the distance. Jason exhaled deeply, and then began wandering around the floor looking for any kind of exit that wouldn't involve passing by too many guards.

He soon happened upon a window that faced the back of the clinic. There was only one van stationed on that side of the building, and none of R1 could be seen. He considered going back down to the first floor and lying his way through the main entrance, but decided that would be too risky. Going out the window seemed like his best chance. He opened the window and gazed out. There it was. Basinville seemed to stretch open before him, a maze of concrete and dilapidated buildings. He could see the potholes on Cedar Street, the cheap coffee shop down by the liquor store, the street light next to Pennyroyal Road that never worked, the red brick apartment on the corner that should have been condemned years ago. It was all familiar and comforting and just within reach. Victory seemed assured.

To his right Jason heard the officer that he had followed. "State your name and IDN!" He had brought five more men with him, and all of them had guns pointed at Jason's head. "Last chance, identify yourself or we will open fire!"

Had they found the man that Jason left in the closet? Had he said something that aroused too much suspicion? Or was it the fact that he was staring out a window while he should be searching? Whichever reason it was, Jason didn't care. There were too many of them to take out all at once, and he had nowhere to run. It was now or never.

Jason jumped. Time seemed to slow down at the apex of his leap. A light breeze tickled his skin. The glorious morning sun filled his eyes. He had finally escaped. Gravity seemed like an afterthought as he plummeted back to the earth.

The light breeze became a mighty wind blowing past him. The ground rapidly approached as he fell past each floor. He counted them in his head. _Three… two… one!_ Schizoid Man appeared, and in one swift motion it grabbed Jason with one hand and a window ledge with the other. Jason's high speed descent abruptly stopped.

He dropped to the ground and pressed his body against the building, in case the officers above were trying to get a bead on him from the window. After reaching the end he broke off from the clinic wall and dashed over to the van, hiding behind its bulletproof body. There was something peculiar about the van, and it took a moment for Jason to realize what it was. There was a keyhole directly above the passenger side rear wheel.

"Sawyer disabled their vans! He didn't abandon me! He went on ahead to secure my escape route!"

Voices from the other sides of the clinic cut through the air and made their way into Jason's ears. By the sound of it the officers were in an uproar. They were loud and passionate, ordering everyone present to identify themselves or demanding a complete sweep of the entire community. Jason decided now was his best shot at getting away.

He ran.

* * *

Basinville had never looked so barren. The high noon hustle and bustle usually on display was gone. Only a small handful of timid pedestrians remained of what would normally be a busy scene. They walked quickly, keeping their heads down unless someone else crossed their path, in which case a quick glance was the only acknowledgement they dared give them. The usual congested traffic had been whittled down to a rare few cars. They sputtered down the road going well under the speed limit, as if in reverence for the neighborhood's eerie silence.

Cedar Street, one of Basinville's busiest streets, looked nearly dead. All but the most dedicated of businesses and convenience stores were closed, their doors locked tight and their lights snuffed out. Even the 24-hour gas station on the corner of Cedar and Risen had been abandoned. Construction equipment lay lifeless on the road with no workers in sight. There were no ambulances with screaming sirens, no garbage trucks filling their maws with refuse, no mailmen, and no stray dogs. The once lively center of activity was almost unrecognizable.

Jason didn't stop as he ran down Cedar Street, even when the few people still brave or curious enough to venture outside shrieked and fled at the sight of him. With every few steps it became more apparent that something was wrong in Basinville. Though his year-long stay in the neighborhood hadn't always been a pleasant one, its current defunct state just seemed fundamentally wrong. The bright rays of the noontide sun only illuminated the oddities.

Despite the gear he wore, which included body armor, a helmet, black combat boots, and a holstered pistol, his pace never slowed. Whether it was the adrenaline pumping through him or something else the extra weight on his body felt nearly nonexistent. When he reached the first four-way intersection he shot off to the left, cut across the empty road and disappeared into an alleyway.

He had managed to lose the officers, at least for the moment.

By the time R1 had been informed that Jason had escaped he was already long gone. Without their vans they were forced to pursue him on foot. Luckily for Jason he had intimate knowledge of the neighborhood, and he soon eluded them by weaving in and out of the various buildings nearby. His familiarity of Basinville's shortcuts kept him a few steps ahead. Before he knew it the clinic had vanished into the horizon.

In spite of the current situation the boy smiled as he hopped a chain fence and cut across the empty parking lot of a pharmacy. He felt utterly victorious, like he was a fairy tale hero that had vanquished a giant beast. He hastily made his way back toward his apartment complex on Yonder Road. Even the sight of the groan-inducing name of his home street on a sign felt welcoming to him. If his suspicions were correct the officials never found out his name or address, and he'd be able to run in and grab his things before finding somewhere to recuperate and plan his next move. He was confident that he could figure out what was going on, as long as he took everything one step at a time.

As the Fair Heart apartment building came into view he abruptly stopped. He leaped back into an alleyway and summoned his Stand. He was being watched. It was more than paranoia or intuition; somehow he knew for certain that eyes were on him. He slowly backed up as he looked about. Yonder Road was no busier than any other place he had passed through. The alley he was in even less so. But the feeling that someone was watching him was undeniable.

Every hair on his body stood on end when he realized that something was standing right over his shoulder. He immediately jumped away with a start and turned to face his assailant.

It was a robotic creature that looked both humanoid and alien at once. It stood about a head taller than Jason. Most of its slim pearl white body was sleek and rounded, save for its legs which ended in digit-less points not unlike those of a starfish. Its arms were more like those of a woman's except for the sky blue grooves that divided its fingers into sections. On its torso were similar grooves, four of them that started at the four corners of its body and met in the middle. A short flat rectangular structure, also sky blue, took the place of a neck and separated its head from its shoulders by a mere couple of centimeters. The bottom half of its hairless head looked fairly normal save for its smooth chin, but the borders of its face abruptly curved outward at the spot where its ears would have been. The top half of its head was shaped like an oval on its side, each end jutting out nearly as far as its shoulders. Thin black lines ran down its pupil-less golden eyes, which were similarly oval-shaped. It had no nose to speak of. Its expression went beyond stoicism into utter indifference, and when it opened its lip-less mouth to speak its voice conveyed the same sentiment.

"You of cursed blood," it spoke flatly, pointing a finger at Jason. "If you seek freedom, go."

"Who are you?! Are you a Stand?!" Jason readied Schizoid Man and prepared to strike.

It slowly stood erect, its legs bending upward until it reached its full height. "Follow your desire." Its countenance didn't change at all. It seemed completely unafraid.

"What are you talking about?!" The creature's utter lack of passion greatly unnerved the boy. His uncertainty was the only thing that kept him from attacking.

"You have already made your decision. You cannot go back."

The creature was gone. There was no puff of smoke, no flash of light, no gradual fading away. It simply wasn't there anymore.

Jason could feel his heart still racing. His confidence had all at once been replaced with bewilderment. He stood there as the creature's words ran through his mind over and over. _What the hell did it mean? Is it an enemy Stand? Is it just trying to confuse me?_

Something crawling along Yonder Road demanded his attention: a large shadowy figure gliding across the street. After a moment Jason realized it was indeed a shadow, one that looked like it belonged to a large bird… but something was wrong. It was too oddly shaped to be a bird's shadow. Its head was too rounded, it had no beak, and where its tail should be was instead a pair of what looked like legs. Jason looked upward and his mouth dropped open. "You have got to be fucking kidding me."

The shadow belonged to an officer flying through the sky. Large majestic wings were coming out of his back. Made of closely bunched grey feathers, they stretched out as their owner glided along at a leisurely pace. Six more officers soon followed, each of them with their own pair of wings. One of them had red wings like those of a cardinal, and another had an eagle's black wings. One of the guards stood upright as oversized hummingbird wings kept him aloft, flapping at such a rapid rate that they looked stationary. All of them carried rifles. They soon broke formation and flew in different directions, looking down as they scoured the neighborhood.

Jason hid behind the nearest building as he weighed his options. He couldn't think of any way to reach them, much less fight them, and if they spotted him it would be extremely hard to evade them. So he decided to wait it out. "It's the only way to keep them off my back," he reasoned, sitting down with his back against a wall.

As he waited, peeking out every once in a while to confirm that they were still surveying the area, he considered just walking away and pretending he was one of them. Ultimately he decided that it wasn't worth the risk. "Even if I'm still disguised, they might still recognize me. I can't take that chance." He sighed and looked at the sky. It was an idyllic summer day with rolling clouds and a gentle sun. Even amidst the looming danger he found it a shame that he couldn't just sit and enjoy the scenery.

A soft buzzing sound suddenly appeared to his right. It sounded like the humming of a small motor, but the shadow that accompanied it clued Jason in. The officer with hummingbird wings was closing in. Jason jumped up and hid on the left side of the house as the officer floated through, slowly making his way to Jason.

"He's alone," Jason whispered to himself. "I've gotta take him out." He summoned Schizoid Man as the hummingbird-officer was nearly around the corner. The Stand clenched its fist as he got ready to make his move.

Static resounded from the radio at the guard's side. "Something's c…kkkk…up. R1 return to base. I repeat, R…kkk…turn to base." The guard looked confused, but followed orders and turned to leave, flying over the house and narrowly missing Jason. Shortly after the other six flying men appeared, abandoning their search and flying back toward the clinic.

Jason wasted no time and fled into the Fair Heart apartment. "It's too dangerous to stay here anymore," he told himself as he raced through the empty building and flew up the stairs. Once he reached apartment 21 he realized that his key had been confiscated when he was taken prisoner, but Schizoid Man quickly solved that problem. He ran to the dresser in his bedroom and starting gathering things, all the while fighting the urge to sprawl out on his bed and sleep. He grabbed his wallet, a change of clothes, some protein bars and a bottle of water, and then threw all of them into a dark blue duffel bag. He was in and out in three minutes.

Once outside he took one last look at the apartment. Even considering the high rent, the frequent spider problems, and the noisy neighbors it was still home, and he was going to miss it.

* * *

Night was beginning to fall; the temperature dropped as the sun lazily settled into the horizon. The gentle breeze from earlier was gone, and the crickets' placid music filled the air.

Jason marched on through Basinville. He was nearing the edge of the neighborhood, aiming for the border between Basinville and Montblanc. He would've already cleared it if he hadn't taken a break at Rain's Way Café, one of the few eating establishments still accepting customers. His disguise frightened the workers, but it was worth it if it kept him hidden from the officials' eyes. After everything that had happened in the past couple of days the hour he spent eating pork chops and drinking coffee felt like heaven. He practically had to pry himself out of his chair to continue his trek.

He kept his brain as blank as he could. He knew that the moment he let his mind wander that he would start worrying about Donna, about Sawyer, about the government officials, about the mysterious Stand, about the rare few friends he had that were still in the area. So instead he focused on the crickets. He had never noticed how tranquil their chirps were before. Before long he was listening intently, trying to pick out exactly where they were. When he spotted one on the sidewalk, he got an idea and summoned his Stand. _I wonder if my ability works on animals..._

Two figures appeared in the distance before he got the chance. They were walking straight toward him, strutting with their arms swinging wildly from side to side. When they came under the street light, Jason could see that they were just random strangers. Both were tall and broadly built, and looked to be in their twenties. One had a buzz cut, the other a thin spiked mohawk. Jason sighed as they approached. _It's always something…_

"What are you doing around here, ya government dog?" the man with the buzz cut barked. He walked right up to Jason and leered at him.

"This is our turf! See that?" the man with the mohawk pointed at the nearby powerlines. Tied to one of the lines was a brown tennis shoe. "That means we own this place! You've heard of us, right? That's why you dogs are too afraid to come 'round here, ain't it?"

Jason felt strangely relieved that they were just random punks. Compared to hiding from flying men and ghosts unlocking shoes with keys, being accosted by gang members felt almost normal. "Look, I'm not with the government. I…"

"Shut up! You think you can fool us?!" the man with the mohawk bellowed.

"I'm telling you, I'm not with them," Jason attempted to explain. "They captured me yesterday, they took me…"

"Hey, the man said to shut up!" The man with the buzz cut inched even closer. Jason could smell his fetid breath as he spoke. "We ain't lettin' you bastards take us away! You ain't getting' near our neighborhood!" The man pulled a pistol out from a hidden holster and pointed it in Jason's face. "Now you're comin' with us! Big Sis is gonna have fun makin' you talk! Now hands where I can see em'!"

Even as the man with the mohawk walked around him and stripped him of his gun, Jason still felt utterly unthreatened. He slowly put his hands in the air.

"That's right, now start walk-AGHH!"

A kick courtesy of Schizoid Man knocked the man off his feet. Another one hit the man with the mohawk in the stomach, and he doubled over in pain. Making sure they could see, Jason had his Stand pick up both guns and crush them in its hands. After that his Stand gave each of them another kick. He could feel his anger starting to boil, and the temptation to take it out on the punks was getting hard to resist.

"W-w-w-w-?" the man with the buzz cut stammered as he struggled to get back up.

Jason folded his arms across his chest and glared daggers at the two men. "I TRIED to tell you. Now look, I've had a VERY long day, and you jackasses don't need to make it any longer for me. So either you listen to me, or I'm gonna get REALLY angry, REALLY fast." Taking off his helmet, he opened his mouth to talk, but the man with the mohawk beat him to it.

"Y-y-y-you're g-gonna regret this! When Big Sis gets here, she's…"

The man with the buzz cut stumbled to his feet at pointed into the distance. "Th-there she is!" Clutching his bruised chest with one hand, he waved the other one wildly. "B-Big Sis! Th-this dog's got weird powers! H-help us!"

The man with the mohawk joined in, wincing in pain as he cried out. "Please h-urk! Help! He's tryin to-ugh! Tryin' to take us in!"

Big Sis came out of the darkness. She was a skinny young woman around Jason's age. Her dark brown hair was incredibly wavy, turning at sharp angles as it flowed down to the base of her neck. The shade of her light brown skin made it hard to determine her race. She wore a particularly thin white fur coat that ended just below her waist. The sleeves had been cleanly cut off, and underneath it was a simple long-sleeved shirt colored dark blue. On her right wrist was a charm bracelet with a small lightning bolt in its center. The legs of her black pants flared out a bit at the ankles, resting on black dress shoes. Her hazel eyes narrowed as she set her sights on Jason.

"'Did you do this?'" Her voice barely concealed a focused rage. "That's what I'd ask your average dumbass that thinks they can just waltz through here and do whatever the hell they want." She took a few more steps forward. Reaching behind her back she pulled out a weapon. It was some kind of knife, though the large symmetrical silver blade was something one would see on a dagger. It had no cross-guard, and the hilt was a fairly plain rectangular brown grip. She casually tossed the weapon to her free hand. "But you government dogs don't even deserve that question."

The two punks dashed to her side. "You're in for it now! Big Sis ain't gonna show you no mercy!" The man with the buzz cut's cockiness had returned instantly.

"You better run, dog!" The man with the mohawk yelled. "You'd have to be retarded to pick a fight with Big Sis!"

Without hesitation Big Sis turned and slugged the man with the mohawk in the face, knocking him flat on his back. Her eyes wide in anger, she grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt and lifted him to his feet. "What did I tell you about using that word?! How do you think people with mental illnesses feel when you say shit like that?! You know I can't stand close-minded people!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! It just slipped out!"

Jason was practically dumbfounded at what he was seeing, and his anger vanished for a moment. "Aren't you… being close-minded if you hate me for being a govern… I mean, no! I'm NOT ONE OF THEM!"

Big Sis let go of the punk and turned her ire back to Jason. "Trying to weasel your way out of this ain't gonna work." She took off her coat and tossed it behind her for the man with the buzz cut to catch. Rolling up her sleeves, she pointed her knife at Jason. "You're not setting foot in Montblanc!"

"For God's sake, just LISTEN to me! I am not a…"

Big Sis leaped toward Jason, closing the gap between them in a flash. She shot her arm forward, aiming to slash Jason across the chest. He jerked backward to avoid it and then dodged to the side when she deftly followed up with another swipe. He felt a wall behind him as he took a couple of steps backward.

"I'm warning you! Either back off or I'm gonna fight back! I don't wanna have to hurt a woman!"

"You'd better get over that pretty fuckin' quick!" Big Sis snarled as she brought her knife down in a diagonal slice. Schizoid Man moved to grab the knife. _I'll disarm her and make her submit!_ The moment the knife met the Stand's hand a spray of blood shot out. A gash appeared on Jason's left palm and it likewise lost blood.

"What?!" More out of shock than pain, Jason held his injured hand. "It injured my Stand! Then that means that you have powers too?!"

"Damn straight!" A bit of pride seeped into her voice as another knife materialized in her empty hand. She jumped back and with a flick of her wrist she sent the new knife flying at Jason. Careful not to touch the blade, Schizoid Man swatted the knife away, sending it flying off to the side. Big Sis gave him little time to breathe when she leapt toward him again and prepared to slice his chest once more. This time Jason answered it with a punch.

"ORA!"

The blow knocked her back, but not nearly as far as Jason was planning on. She didn't even drop to her knees. She wiped a trickle of blood from her lip and smirked. "Your Stand's pretty strong… I'd better be careful." She threw her remaining knife in Jason's direction. It missed him completely and embedded itself in the side of the building behind him.

"Your aim's getting worse! Just give up while you still can!" Jason turned to take the knife from the wall.

Big Sis was there. She took the planted knife before Jason could and attacked, cutting him diagonally across the chest. The knife cut through his body armor like it wasn't there, leaving a bleeding wound.

Jason clutched his chest and tried to ignore the sting of the wound. _How did she move that quickly?_ He realized that he was at a disadvantage as long as he didn't know how her Stand worked. When Big Sis went back on the offensive Jason decided that he needed to disable her as soon as possible, gender be damned.

Schizoid Man grabbed her hand before she could give him another cut. She gritted her teeth as the Stand forced her to drop the weapon. She swung her leg and knocked the knife to her left. If she was trying to kick it at Jason she failed miserably. Jason spied a window in his peripheral vision and had his Stand jerk Big Sis to the side, putting her directly in front of it. Schizoid Man brought its arm back and launched it forward, knocking her through the window.

Jason let out a deep exhale. He wanted to believe that she was down for the count, but he wasn't about to relax until he confirmed it. He cautiously approached the broken window, hoping to see her out of commission.

A searing pain shot through his left leg. Big Sis was behind him, embedding a knife into the back of his leg, directly behind his knee. His leg immediately buckled and he was forced onto his hands and knees. He did his best to steady his breathing and got back on his feet, but as he turned to swing at her he was attacked again, this time from the front. Big Sis had stabbed him in the right leg before he even realized she was there. This time it left a gash in his thigh.

"Yeah, give it to em'! Cut him up good!"

"Nobody messes with Big Sis!"

Jason could hear the punks cheering on their boss as he struggled to stand. His numerous wounds made it very difficult. Big Sis simply stood there, ominously still. She was covered with small cuts but didn't seem to care. Her glowering face didn't change one whit as the true form of her Stand appeared behind her. It was a light orange robotic Stand with a wiry frame. Its forearms were divided in two firm halves with a thin straight gap between them. They resembled the forearms of a human skeleton, though they were a bit thicker. The lower legs looked very similar. Surrounding its waist were four creamy white scabbards, presumably used to store its knives. Two wire-thin antennae rose up from the sides of its head. A small grid of squares replaced its mouth. Above it were its eyes, which were perfectly round and the same solid creamy white color as its scabbards.

"S-so that's your Stand." Jason slowly rose to his feet. His opponent didn't budge while he found his footing. _Why is she just standing there?_ Jason quickly turned to the left, trying to ensure that she wouldn't come out of nowhere and catch him off guard again. He was greeted with another Big Sis. She stood in the exact same stance. "H-how…?" Jason turned to the left again. There she was again. He turned again. She was still there.

"You think you can just take whatever you want? WHOever you want?" Her Stand gradually hovered in front of her as she spoke. "You bastards are like weeds growing in a strawberry patch! And if I have to rip you all out myself, I will!"

* * *

 **-To-Be-Continued-**


	3. Behind The Knife (2)

**STAND: Schizoid Man**

 **USER: Jason Ollander 'Jojo' Joestar (17 years old)**

 **POWER: B SPEED: B RANGE: E (2 meters)**

 **STAYING: B PRECISION: C LEARNING: A**

 **ABILITY: Shoots darts from its palm which allow the User to**

' **borrow' any one of the target's senses. This ability's full**

 **range of applications has yet to be explored.**

* * *

 **Behind The Knife (2)**

* * *

Blood trickled from Jason's leg wounds as he stood before his opponent. He clenched the muscles in his thighs in an attempt to steady them. Schizoid Man hovered in front the boy, ready to absorb whatever attack Big Sis was preparing. He wasn't sure where she would strike from, or even if there were more than one of her. As the sting of his cuts grew worse so did his resentment. He no longer saw Big Sis as a civilian or a woman. She was just an enemy.

Big Sis and her Stand both vanished. Behind the spot she was standing was one of her knives, embedded halfway into the ground. As Jason turned to find her he felt a fist slam into the base of his neck. New pain ran down his back as the blow knocked him forward, and his knees shook as he struggled to stay on his feet. Schizoid Man swung the back of its fist toward the source of the attack with an impassioned 'ORA!' It hit nothing but air. In his peripheral vision he saw Big Sis leap backward with her Stand in tow, but when Jason spun toward her she was gone. Again a knife marked the place where she once stood.

Jason felt a foot bury itself into the back of his left knee. He gritted his teeth as his knee gave out. Schizoid Man's subsequent attack was just as futile as the last one. The boy listened for footsteps but Big Sis made no sounds to give away her location. _It's always a single strike_ … he mulled as he gradually stood back up. _If there was more than one of her, why wouldn't they all attack at once?_

He glanced about, not to try and find his aggressor, but to see where her knives were placed. They were in a perfect diamond, equidistant from one another, and Jason was right in the middle of them. Jason lifted his head to speak.

"You're teleporting, aren't you?"

Another blow struck him from behind, again targeting his injured knee. He barely managed to stay upright. "That's why you've stopped cutting me, right? You're not attacking with those knives anymore because you need them where they are. You're warping from knife to knife. That's your ability."

Again Jason felt a punch, this time aimed at his left temple. While reeling from the blow he caught a glimpse of Big Sis' Stand as it retracted its arm. His eyes followed it as it returned to Big Sis. Instead of warping away she put a hand to her hip and smirked. "You think you've got me all figured out, huh?"

"Yeah, I do." Derision entered Jason's words as he gave her an icy stare. "You're a stubborn punk who won't listen to reason." Schizoid Man raised a fist. "So I'm gonna beat it into you instead!"

At once Big Sis' smirk shifted into a scowl. "Awfully cocky for a trapped rat!" In the blink of an eye Big Sis vanished again.

Jason straightened his back as best he could. "She's set up her knives so that I can only see one at a time! I have to get out of her 'zone'!" He tried to run but his legs could barely carry his weight, and the best he could manage was a limping walk. Moments later a kick plowed into Jason's legs, sending him to the ground. With a grunt he attempted to rise, but it was all he could do to make it to his knees. _Dammit! She's injuring my legs so I can't get out!_

"Yeah yeah! Get him, Big Sis!" The man with the mohawk yelled his support from the sideline.

Big Sis revealed herself, warping to the knife directly in front of Jason. "Don't bother! You're on a leash! You can only go where I let you go!"

With a yell Jason sent Schizoid Man flying toward Big Sis, but she teleported just as the Stand threw a punch.

"Do you feel it now?" This time her voice came from behind. "Scared? Alone? Taken away from everything you know? Do you feel like your prisoners feel?!"

Blows rained upon Jason in quick succession, each one from a different angle. All of them went unpunished by Schizoid Man, his counterattacks always a second too late. By the end of them Jason was sprawled out on the street, unmoving save for his labored breaths.

"Serves ya right! Beat him some more, Big Sis!" The man with the buzz cut shouted.

Again Big Sis appeared before Jason, looking down at him with stony eyes. It took great effort for him to return her gaze.

"Do you get the point yet? You can't beat me." Her boiling rage had been replaced with a cold animosity. Perhaps wailing on Jason had abated some of her anger. She crossed her arms. "Now give up and tell me where you're keeping your prisoners. I want every location. Do what I say, and once we confirm that you're not lying I'll let you go."

Though every limb on his body felt as heavy as rock, Jason managed to pull himself up. Sitting on his knees, he stared at Big Sis in icy silence.

"Either you cooperate with me, or my 「STATION TO STATION」 is gonna keep pounding you until you do." Station To Station crossed its arms to match its User. "So save yourself some trouble and just tell me."

"I HAVE told you. I told you that I'm gonna beat reason into you."

The look of utter vehemence on Big Sis' face was as sharp as her weapons. "You little smartass! Try threatening me again when you're on death's door!"

Schizoid Man raised its palm. _This is my only chance! I have to get a better vantage point!_ A dart flew out of the Stand's palm, aimed at Big Sis' stomach. She looked surprised, but once the dart was mere centimeters from her body she warped away. Schizoid Man began firing wildly, each dart traveling in a different direction. Big Sis continued warping from knife to knife, managing to evade every dart.

"You think that's gonna work?! Even without warping, my Station To Station could still dodge those things! Even if they were as fast as bullets, you'd still never hit me!" Her declarations came from all around Jason as she warped again and again.

Schizoid Man lowered its arm. Jason was done trying to hit her.

Big Sis warped to the knife in his line of sight. "I gave you a chance! Now I'm gonna beat you until you beg for mercy! If I have to I'll spend all night teaching you over and over that you dogs will NEVER set foot in my neighborhood!"

Suddenly an air of serenity fell over Jason. He smiled.

"What the hell are you grinning about?! Don't you know when you're beaten?!"

The boy's expression didn't change one bit. His entire body relaxed as he spoke. "All my life I've had bad luck. I went to the doctor once for an x-ray; they got my chart mixed up and told me I had bone cancer. One time I won $500 dollars in a contest, and then I got mugged on the way home. And yesterday I got taken captive by the government on the one day I didn't take the bus."

Jason shifted his weight back and sat on the ground. "So when things go my way, I can't help but smile."

"Then smile all you fuckin' want! I'll wipe it right off your face!"

"No, you won't." Jason pointed a finger at his opponent. "You've lost. Your ability won't work on me anymore."

For a moment Big Sis looked utterly flabbergasted. "Wha…Are you MOCKING me?! You can't even TOUCH me! I'll prove it as many times as I have to!"

Big Sis warped to the knife on Jason's right. Station To Station flew at Jason faster than it ever had. It drew its arm back, preparing for a massive punch.

This time Jason could see it. He was using a different pair of eyes.

Before Station To Station could strike, Schizoid Man drove its fist into the enemy Stand's chest. Station To Station's momentum immediately stopped. The blow knocked it back.

Big Sis was sent flying at the same time. Blood escaped her mouth as she was sent through the air, a look of utter shock frozen on her face. She hit the ground hard several meters away from her knife. With haggard breath she painfully rose up, clutching her chest. She stumbled backward, her knees shaking as gravity fought her attempts to stand.

Jason approached her with Schizoid Man following close behind. Though his legs threatened to fold he managed to stay the course and didn't stop until he was about a meter away from his opponent. Big Sis yelled as her Stand lunged at the boy again. Schizoid Man answered the assault with another punch, knocking Big Sis back to the ground as her Stand disappeared.

"H-how?! How did you… counter me?!" She asked in astonishment through pained gasps.

Jason motioned toward her two lackeys, both of whom were wearing expressions of bewilderment and worry. "That one, the one with the mohawk. One of my darts hit him. Guess you were too worked up to notice. That let me see through his eyes. As long as I was in your 'zone', I was never able to tell where you'd attack from. So I had to 'borrow' the eyes of someone…"

"…Who wasn't in the 'zone'…" Big Sis finished his sentence in a mixed tone of dread and awe.

"Big Sissss!"

"We're coming!"

Both of her men starting to run toward Jason.

"DON'T! STAY BACK!" Big Sis screamed as she haltingly got up again.

"B-but… you're…"

"I mean it! Even if he kills me, do NOT attack him!" Her hazel eyes narrowed at Jason as she climbed to her feet. "Leave them out of this! This is between you and me!" Station To Station reappeared, ready to continue fighting. "You're not setting foot in Montblanc, no matter what!"

For a brief moment Jason felt something like respect toward his opponent. That feeling was quickly swallowed up by anger.

"You really are… a STUBBORN PUNK!"

Schizoid Man unleashed a barrage of punches, each one crashing into Big Sis at dizzying speeds.

"ORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORA!"

She flew through the air once more and hit the ground with a thud. Though the rest of her body was unresponsive, she slowly wrenched her head up to look at Jason. "Y…you…" That was all she could choke out before she fell unconscious.

"No, Big Sis!"

Her two lackeys bolted to her side. The man with the buzz cut knelt down beside her and tended to her, taking a rag out of his pocket and wiping the blood from her wounds. The man with the mohawk turned to Jason and clenched his fists.

"E-even if I don't h-have a Stand… I don't care what Big Sis said! I'm n-not lettin' you get away with this!" His voice shook as he made threats, but his body language conveyed a willingness to follow through with them.

Jason said nothing. His anger quickly subsided. He picked up his duffel bag and walked around them. The whole scenario started from a misunderstanding, and he had no intention of making it worse than it already was. The man with the mohawk moved to block his path, but the man with the buzz cut waved him down, and he joined him in assisting their boss. Jason didn't look back as he exited the scene.

* * *

The soothing tones of crickets gave way to the sounds of traffic as Jason entered Montblanc. A disjointed trail of street lights led the way, each one nudging aside the darkness with a dim glow. Slowly but surely he followed that trail. His legs paradoxically hurt less the more he walked. He had stopped at a closed store to procure first-aid supplies, leaving a $20 bill on the register as recompense. Either the bandages and disinfectant were working miracles or he was healing faster than he logically should. _It doesn't feel like my Stand's doing this. Maybe this is just something Stand Users get, like a bonus._

Nonetheless he was exhausted, like he had just finished a ten kilometer run uphill. Though the thick cloth bandages did their part the blood loss was taking its toll. Occasionally he would veer off onto the road, though he was always quick to place himself back on the sidewalk. An oppressive fatigue began coating his body, making every building and sign seem to stretch on forever.

In time Jason reached the neighborhood proper, and was immediately reminded of why he hadn't been there in months.

The tail end of a crime scene was playing out not far in the distance. Police lights flashed as officers of the law stood about finishing their reports. Paramedics loaded a stretcher into their ambulance. On the stretcher was a twenty-something man in a hoodie, bleeding profusely from a bullet wound in his chest. He laid there unmoving and may well have been dead. The ambulance sounded its piercing siren, and within a minute it and the accompanying police cars were gone.

The pedestrians crossing the neighboring street acted as though the police and paramedics were invisible. None of them could be bothered to give the sight even the barest glimpse.

 **Montblanc, named after the most dangerous mountain in the Alps, is a neighborhood of deception. Boasting a population of around 44,000, many of its inhabitants are the descendants of French immigrants who had braved their way to America in search of wealth and opportunity. They brought with them their homeland's customs, and their unfamiliar art, food, and music helped the fledgling community grow as it attracted the curious. Over time gaudy buildings reminiscent of French Baroque architecture were bestrewn throughout, providing a piece of foreign culture for visitors and a comfortable familiarity for its founders.**

 **However, as the neighborhood flourished it garnered the attention of the city council, who decided to use its allure to their advantage. The bolder establishments were quickly outnumbered by cheaper and more conventional attractions, which prompted an influx of new citizens that threatened to dilute the original community. In addition, Montblanc was ill-equipped to accommodate the brisk flow of new residents; unemployment, crime and overcrowding soon followed. Montblanc's founders began to fear that modernization would erase the image they had worked hard to establish, that their idyllic community was becoming little more than a resort. Animosity grew between the old inhabitants and the new, and eventually that animosity became segregation and violence. Even as the impetus behind the violence was lost to time, the hatred between the segregated factions continued to fester.**

 **In the present day that hatred still lingers on. Though Montblanc has grown more opulent than ever and regularly attracts those seeking nightlife thrills, gang activity is at an all-time high, and Montblanc's homicide rate is nearly thrice that of Basinville's. In a way, Montblanc is much like the mountain it is named after, hiding corpses behind a glistening veneer.**

Montblanc appeared to be untouched by the misfortune that befell Basinville. Scores of people littered the streets and walkways. Mostly young couples, their chattering almost overtook the nearby cacophony of car noises. Illuminated signs blinked in and out as they competed for the attention of potential customers. For every few people who disappeared into a nightclub or bar there were a few more that exited at the same time. It seemed as though these people hadn't a care in the world.

Wading through traffic as best he could on injured legs, Jason stood at the corner of Rue de l'Étincelle if the street sign was to be believed. He started down the adjacent street, aiming to get away from the majority of the crowds. Before he made it very far he espied three figures about halfway down the road. Half-hidden under hooded jackets, they turned to stare at Jason. Their collective glare seemed to hold physical weight as they stood unmoving, seemingly waiting for Jason to come closer.

Jason had abandoned his disguise along the way, as it seemed to bring him more trouble than it was worth at this point. It wasn't hostility toward the government that they exhibited; the 'vibe' of cold indifference he felt from them was a familiar one, the one he had felt from those who'd mugged him in the past. In his mind's eye Jason could practically see someone sneaking up behind him as he passed the next building, trapping him between four strangers who were itching to rob him, or perhaps do something worse. He considered letting Schizoid Man deal with them, but it occurred to him that one or more of the strangers might have their own Stand; if Big Sis had one, why not them? Maintaining eye contact until he had passed the corner, Jason backed away and took another path.

He paid little attention to the resplendent establishments lining the square, even as blaring music and sounds of merriment poured from them. He focused instead on the neon signs above him. _'Red Pole Club', 'Maison des Dés','Velvet Palace…'_ Near the edge of the extravagant square he found what he was looking for: a hotel. The Cassandra Suite made a mediocre effort to look exotic: cylindrical stone pillars lined the front of the hotel, holding up its four floors. Atop its summit were two statues of angels in flight, and the triangular roof had a swirling pattern carved into it that ran the length of the building. However, its utterly plain windows, simple black railing, and dull brown colored walls shattered the illusion, and the combined effect of its contrasting design choices just made it look disingenuous.

Once inside Jason approached the nearest receptionist, a red-haired gentleman with shifty eyes. After requesting a single room for one night, he was immediately answered with '$260.' He knew it was a rip-off, but he was tired enough that he didn't care. After parting with a sizeable chunk of his savings Jason retired to his room. He barely gave the room's amenities any notice. He threw down his bag and collapsed on the king-sized bed. Within minutes he drifted into a deep dreamless sleep.

* * *

The clock on the wall read '3:32' when Jason awoke. He was surprised to find that he could walk with nearly no problems, and assumed that 15 hours of sleep had done him some good. He glanced out the window and was greeted with another warm sunny day. The streets were still replete with pedestrians and vehicles alike. He passed a calendar as checked out of the hotel. 'May 6th'. Not quite summer, but the 80-degree weather and lack of spring showers seemed to disagree.

The teeming square vanished from view as Jason went deeper into the heart of Montblanc. The garish buildings became more and more plain as the crowds began to thin. There were no government officials to be seen anywhere, but their impact was still felt. Frightened whispers escaped the lips of the citizens as Jason passed them by. He began listening to their conversations with Schizoid Man, and found that most of them had heard what had happened in Basinville. They worried that Montblanc might be targeted next, and many of them conveyed their wishes to 'head to the Square and try to forget the whole thing.' One of them mentioned that 'maybe the chemicals didn't hit Montblanc?' but didn't elaborate any further. None of them knew anything particularly useful, and Jason eventually gave up trying to glean information from them.

Somewhere a large bell rang four times. Jason decided to get something to eat before planning his next move, and he ducked into a restaurant called Bird's Nest. The painting-laden establishment was brimming with hungry clients, and it took some time before he was seated. He ordered coffee without cream or sugar, but relented on buying anything else after perusing the menu. _Even the salads are expensive! I gotta save my money…_ Out of the corner of his eye he saw a portly man in a suit messily devouring an expensive lobster dinner. Jason nearly salivated at the sight, and quickly thought of a creative use for his Stand. He shot a dart into the portly man, and soon after he tasted every morsel of lobster as though it was being crammed into his own mouth. It didn't diminish his hunger but it was gratifying nonetheless.

After three cups of coffee Jason left the restaurant, but as he circled around the building a stranger approached him. He was a lanky fellow in his early twenties, and he sported a disarmingly friendly smile. Curly dark hair stuck out from under his black bowler hat. His tight green jacket had three horizontal straps in place of buttons or a zipper, and small pockets rested on each corner and both breasts. Thin light khakis hugged his skinny legs, and his simple white sneakers made little noise as he casually strolled toward Jason.

"Excuse me," the curly-haired man spoke. "Did you hear about Basinville? I heard that the government basically took over the place."

"Yeah, I heard." Jason wasn't about to trust a stranger, but figured he might be able to get some information from him.

"I didn't want to think it was true, but it looks like people are being forcibly taken from their neighborhoods. I've been traveling around the city, and I've seen a few other neighborhoods that the government has been moving into."

"Really?" _If that's true, then… things are gonna get a lot more complicated._

"Unfortunately, yes." The curly-haired man sighed and put a hand to his forehead. "I cannot fathom why they would do such a thing, can you?"

Jason shrugged, trying to act as nonchalant as possible. "Beats me."

"I simply wish there was something we could do about it."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I can't dismiss this feeling I have. I feel as though they're planning something sinister. From what I've gathered, the people who have 'gone missing' in these areas haven't been seen again. For what reason would the government detain normal citizens? We are not in the middle of a war, and they have no reason to suspect us of any wrongdoing. No more than your average person, at least. So why would they be compelled to relocate us _en masse_ unless they had some hidden plan?"

"…I'm not sure."

The curly-haired man placed a finger on the side of his lips. "I see. I don't mean to impose, but…" He leaned closer to Jason before continuing in a hushed tone. "…If I told you that there are certain people who are working to solve this problem, what would you say?"

Jason's eyes narrowed. "What are you getting at?"

The curly-haired man wore an insightful smile. "I am merely asking if someone with your…abilities… would wish to sit idly by while his city is taken from underneath him."

With a start Jason shoved the man away and summoned his Stand.

The curly-haired man seemed only mildly startled, and he straightened his jacket with a sigh. " _Oh, mon Dieu._ I didn't mean to offend you, nor do I wish to scuffle with you. So please, put away your Stand and sit with me. I believe that we can learn much from one another." The curly-haired man turned around and slowly walked to the wall of the restaurant. He sat down with his back to the wall and calmly waited for Jason's answer.

Jason reluctantly dismissed Schizoid Man. "I guess you wouldn't have turned your back on me just now unless you really didn't wanna fight." He joined the man on the wall, though he sat a couple of meters away just to be safe.

The curly-haired man put a hand to his chest. "My name is Enzo. What shall I call you?"

"Jojo."

"Well Jojo, before we begin…" Enzo rolled up his sleeves. "How about a magic trick?" Reaching into the pocket at his left hip he produced a playing card, the nine of diamonds. "Watch carefully!" He turned the card so that its razor-thin side faced Jason and then gently closed his hand, folding the card and hiding it in his fist. With a flick of his wrist he presented his open palm, and on it now rested a full deck of cards. Grinning, he took off his hat and placed it open-side up on the ground.

"One should always keep his hands busy," Enzo said cheerily as he handed Jason half of the deck. "Strength, grip, dexterity… all of these things should be maintained. The human hand is paramount in a multitude of activities, so it is important to keep it trained and ready at all times. Even the simplest of activities can help keep your hands in prime condition." Enzo began tossing his cards into the hat. Jason soon found himself doing the same.

"My associates and I are working to uncover the truth behind the government's actions. As I said, I've visited several neighborhoods and many of them share the same story: people are disappearing from their homes and from the streets. I've yet to find a common thread behind those who've went missing; they seem to be of no particular background, gender or age. I've a theory, but…"

"They're looking for Stand Users." Jason interrupted. "I'm one of the people who got captured. I managed to escape, but they almost hunted me down. Once they figured out that I had a Stand, they were prepared to kill me."

Enzo hung his head, looking despondent. "I feared as much. Truly Stands are a strange phenomenon, but… is their response simply out of dread?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Did you watch the news today? The mayor gave a speech earlier, urging Bolum's citizens not to resist the government. He said that an unidentified aircraft released some sort of chemical over the city, and that that's the reason behind what the government's doing."

Jason scoffed. "That's a lame-ass excuse."

"My question is why go through all this trouble to apprehend a few people, 'empowered' though they may be? I mean, they've essentially segregated the entire city."

"I've heard that they've got Bolum on lock-down, that they're not letting anyone in or out."

"I've heard the same, but I haven't been able to get close enough to the city border to tell. What worries me more is the fact that we aren't getting reception anymore. Have you tried to make a call to someone outside the city? They never go through. We don't pick up anything on TV or the radio either, except for local stations. They've effectively divorced Bolum from the rest of the world."

Something about the way Enzo worded his last sentence sent a shiver down Jason's spine. "When did all this start?"

Enzo scratched his head. "As far as I can tell, people started disappearing about two weeks ago. But I've heard that there have been government soldiers here for much longer than that. I'm not completely sure. I need more information. I don't know how or exactly why they're doing what they are. I simply don't know enough yet."

Before Jason could inquire further he heard music coming from one of Enzo's many pockets. Enzo held up a finger. "Excuse me, I must take this." He searched through his pants pockets in vain. "One moment, please." The music kept playing as he probed his jacket pockets. " _Zut alors!_ Where could it…" Finally, he pulled a cellphone from his left breast pocket and answered it. "Hello? Yes, I'm back. I'm fine. Yes, they're in Yoruma as well. Yes, I'm on my way. See you there."

Enzo turned back to Jason with a hopeful gleam in his eyes. "Please allow me to reiterate: would someone with your abilities wish to sit idly by while his city is taken from underneath him? I would like you to join our cause. I believe that you could be a great asset to us. Our group is small, but we are becoming more powerful by the day. And I truly believe that one day…" Enzo revealed the last card in his deck, the ace of hearts. "…our hearts will be at ease again."

For a few moments Jason said nothing. He put a hand to his chin and gave Enzo a contemplative gaze. "Like you said Enzo, I just don't know enough yet. I want to believe you. I don't know why you would say what you have if you didn't honestly think it was true. But I don't know who I can trust yet. This has all happened so fast. One minute I'm walking home. The next I'm being shot at. The next I'm fighting street punks with superpowers. I just… don't know."

Enzo looked crestfallen. He silently reached into his hat and pulled out a single card. No other cards fell out of his hat when he put it back on. When Enzo glanced back up at Jason he had something strange in his eyes: a gentle melancholy, almost like pity. "Jojo, I can tell you are a very prudent man. But how long have you been running? How long are you prepared to run alone? When I fall I have comrades to lean on. When your legs break, who will be there to catch you? Can you lean on your prudence?"

Enzo's quiet but firm inquiry felt like an arrow going through Jason's heart.

 _Maybe he's right. I hardly ever see a reason to trust people. I always push them away. But trusting Donna and Sawyer is the only reason I made it out of the clinic. Maybe he's right. I don't know. Maybe I need to take that chance. Maybe he's right._

Jason cleared his throat. He found it very hard to meet Enzo's eyes. He stammered. "I…"

 _Maybe he's right._

"I…"

 _Maybe he's right._

"I don't…"

 _Maybe he's right._

Jason looked up. His consternation was gone. His voice was even. His answer was unwavering.

"I don't know much of anything anymore. But I do know that this is my best chance of finding out what's going on. So alright. I'm in."

Enzo grinned from ear to ear. "I'm glad to hear it, Jojo." He held out a hand. Jason took it and gave it a firm shake.

"Now let's be off. I'll show you our hideout. Come along."

* * *

Costeau Lane marked the location of the hideout. It was a dismal brick building, seemingly abandoned long ago. The small but untamed front yard looked as though it hadn't been tended to in months. The simplistic wooden fence was turning black at the edges and beginning to rot. The building looked unfit to house junk, much less people.

Jason put his hands on his hips. "Well, it's… inconspicuous."

Enzo chuckled as he led Jason through the fence. "It looks better on the inside." Strolling over to the door, he turned and knelt down beside the left window. When he went to pick something up from the porch it appeared as though his hand found nothing, but when he walked back to Jason he was holding a house key. It unlocked the door and they ventured inside.

It certainly did look better on the inside. They were in a fully furnished living room. Two large sofas sat side by side on the northern wall. A rather impressive looking television rested on a lacquered wooden dresser. The brown carpet below them had a minimal number of stains. A grandfather clock stood across from them. Two laptops lay on the floor near a toolbox. Several electric fans were strewn about.

From there they entered the kitchen. It had every convenience one would expect to find in a modern house. Everything from the oven to the dishwasher to the refrigerator looked new and in perfect condition. A few pots and pans were laid out, as if someone was preparing to cook dinner.

"Where did you guys get the money for this place?"

"Oh, you know. Here and there," Enzo answered slyly.

Another door led into a hallway, where another man was waiting for them. He was a large man, 200 centimeters tall by the look of him. His brown hair was cut into rows, with every second row cut much shorter than the ones around them. His grim, chiseled face stared down at Jason as Enzo led him through the hall.

"That's Sid. He's nicer than he looks."

At the end of the hall was the entrance to a bedroom. Enzo knocked on the door. "It's me! I brought Jojo!"

Murmurs could be heard from behind the door. A few seconds later a woman answered back. "Alright, come on in!"

Jason's blood ran cold when he heard the woman's voice. _It can't be…_

Behind the door was what used to be a bedroom. The bed and most of the other furniture had been cleared out to make room for numerous black steel chairs. Sunbeams peering through the window were the only light source.

To the left were both the man with the buzz cut and the man with the mohawk.

In the center was Big Sis.

All at once an eruption of voices filled the room.

"YOU!"

Jason summoned Schizoid Man as the two lackeys drew switchblades. A baffled Enzo grabbed Jason, trying to hold him back. The lackeys started to move in.

"HOLD IT! Everybody chill out!"

Big Sis yelled loud enough to drown out everyone else. The man with the buzz cut motioned toward Jason with his knife. "But Big Sis, that's the guy that…"

"I know who he is, Roger,"

The man with the mohawk approached his boss, holding out his arms. "We can't let that…"

"Keith, I said chill."

Big Sis looked to Jason. A purple button-up shirt had replaced her battle-worn blue one. She was bruised in a few spots, but seemed otherwise healthy. Gone was her insatiable fury.

"I didn't expect it to be you, but calm down."

"That's rich, coming from you," Jason snarled. He didn't lunge at Big Sis, but he didn't relax his stance either.

"Look, I don't have any intention of fighting you again." Her cool tone was very off-putting to Jason.

"I don't know that I believe you."

"Why did you hold back?"

That question was probably the last thing Jason expected to hear her say.

She continued on in a calm voice. "You had me. Your Stand is strong. You coulda beat me to death if you'd wanted. But you didn't. Why?"

Even Jason wasn't completely certain. He had to mull it over before he could give an answer. When he had one, he finally dismissed his Stand. "Because we want the same thing."

A smile spread across Big Sis' face. The tension rapidly drained out of the room. "So that settles it. You were tellin' the truth. No government dog would've done what you did." She stood up from her chair, giving a quiet pained grunt as she did so. "So! You wanna join the group, huh?"

Jason gradually relaxed his muscles, but his miffed expression didn't change. "…Yeah. But don't try to sweep yesterday under the rug! You could've killed me!"

"You're right." Big Sis casually raised her hand and then immediately put it back down. "Sorry. My bad."

Jason stammered, both astounded and frustrated. "Wh-But…'My bad?!' You beat the shit out of me for nothing!"

Big Sis seemed mostly unperturbed by his reaction. "Oh come on, it was an honest mistake!"

"B-but I… tried-"

"I said sorry! What else do you want me to do?" Crossing her arms, she took on an accusatory tone. "You're not the kinda guy who holds grudges, are you?"

She strolled over to Jason, who was still struggling to come up with a full sentence, and dropped a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry about it, we're cool now! I beat you up, you beat me up, we're even." She grinned as she pointed to herself. "My name's Aaliyah. Call me Big Sis if you want. I'm waitin' on a couple other guys to get here, so until then make yourself at home!"

As Aaliyah, Enzo and the two lackeys congregated on the other side of the room, Jason finally managed to compose himself. "Alright, fine. If we're waiting, we can use this time to strategize. We should…"

"My girlfriend finally found her cat!" Roger exclaimed. "It went missing two days ago, and she was gettin' real worried!"

"I didn't know you had a girlfriend!" Aaliyah replied.

"Yeah, here, lemme show you a picture," Roger eagerly dug a phone out of his pocket and showed it to Aaliyah.

"Hey, she's pretty hot! Got some big ones too! Good for you, man!"

 _Is this… really the same woman from yesterday?_

"So," Enzo spoke up, "I should get to making dinner. We still have the ingredients for lasagna, right?"

"Yeah, should be in the left cabinet," Keith responded.

"Lasagna sounds damn good! Put extra cheese on it!" Aaliyah shouted after Enzo as he left for the kitchen. She pointed at Jason with an inquisitive look on her face. "You like lasagna, right?"

Jason sighed.

* * *

 **NAME: 'Big Sis' Aaliyah**

 **STAND: Station To Station**

 **NO LONGER A THREAT**

* * *

 **-TO-BE-CONTINUED-**


	4. Take You For A Ride (1)

**Take You For A Ride (1)**

* * *

Being in Aaliyah's hideout was strangely relaxing. Aaliyah herself didn't even seem like the same woman that Jason had fought less than 24 hours ago; she had a surprising camaraderie with her men. Roger and Keith spent the bulk of their time chatting with her about everything from basketball to music to their favorite kind of alcohol. When Enzo took a break from cooking he inquired about her prior encounter with Jason. She gave an abridged account of the fight dispassionately, as though she was repeating a story she had heard. Even when Enzo cheekily asked if she deserved the beating Aaliyah only got mildly annoyed.

When Aaliyah turned her attention to Jason she began asking him questions that a new acquaintance normally would. Jason gave her some basic information such as his age, where he came from, and the name of his Stand. Anything more personal was addressed with the most casual non-answer he could come up with. Roger and Keith observed them as they conversed. Though Roger accepted Jason's presence well enough and even talked to him a little, Keith was wary of the newcomer. His beady eyes seemed to scrutinize Jason's every move, and he would cross his arms disapprovingly whenever Jason took notice of him. He was obviously trying to look intimidating. Jason was less than impressed.

Eventually Jason wandered back into the kitchen, where Enzo was cutting the finished lasagna into portions. Enzo took off his oven mitts and grinned at Jason. "So, how do you like it here so far?"

"It's… not what I expected. I mean, not in a… bad way, I guess. Aaliyah's, uh…"

Enzo's chuckle cut him off. "I understand. Big Sis must seem like a different person than the one you fought last night. She has very… pronounced moods."

"Yeah… Anyway, are we going to have… some kind of meeting, or…?"

Enzo started laying out plates and silverware. "Well, we're waiting for the last member of our group, Blanford, to get here. He went to pick up someone who works for the Bergers. I imagine you've heard of them before."

Indeed he had. They were the biggest gang in Montblanc.

"To put it simply, we're looking to align with them. Though word is starting to spread, there are still quite a few people who don't know what the government is doing. Big Sis is hoping that the Bergers will join our cause, or at least that they will assist us in protecting Montblanc."

Jason rubbed his temples. "I don't know what I was expecting, but… I can't say I'd be thrilled to be working with gang members."

Enzo put a hand over his lips to stifle a laugh. "Pardon me for laughing, but what did you think WE were?"

"I… I don't know, freedom fighters, I guess?"

"I suppose you could call us that. But we, Les Jeunes, have considered ourselves a gang since our inception. We're a bit more… generous than most gangs, I would say. We don't abuse the clients we protect like the Bergers are wont to do. And we only steal from the affluent, from people who wouldn't miss what we take from them anyway."

"Oh, great," Jason muttered with biting sarcasm. He sat in the nearest chair and buried his face in his hands. "I can't believe I'm working with thieves…" Lifting his head, he asked in an accusatory tone "How are YOU okay with your buddies stealing to get by?"

Enzo's amused grin showed off most of his teeth. "Jojo, I AM a thief. I've been a pickpocket since I was a teenager. I daresay I'm quite good at it."

Jason stood back up, distraught. "Look, I'm no saint, but I've had shit stolen from me before and it sucks! How do you justify taking stuff you didn't earn?"

Struggling to wipe the smile from his face, Enzo leaned against the counter. "Jojo, we're not stealing merely for ourselves. Big Sis…"

Keith picked that moment to interrupt. "Hey, is dinner ready yet?"

"Ah! Yes, it should be cooled off by now."

Keith motioned for Enzo to sit down and began fixing plates. "Here, you cooked, so I'll serve." As he portioned out the lasagna, Keith reached into the pocket on his shirt to pull out something small. Making sure no one present could see, he dumped something onto one of the plates and began mixing it up. The plate he tampered with was the one he set out for Jason.

"I added a little extra parmesan," Enzo remarked as he picked up a fork. "I hope it doesn't overtake the noodles."

As Jason lifted a piece of lasagna to his mouth he smelled something odd. Swirling the food around, he found a splotch of tomato sauce that looked a bit darker than the rest. He sniffed it until he realized that it was hot sauce.

Keith sat across from Jason, watching him closely with an expectant sneer. _Let's see how ya like my volcanic hot sauce,_ Keith thought as he eagerly awaited Jason's first bite. _I ain't forgiving you for what ya did to us! Maybe I can't beat ya in a fight, but I can burn your tongue off!_

Jason watched Keith out of the corner of his eye. He continued to hold his fork up to his mouth. _Is he that juvenile?! Well… I did kinda beat up his boss, maybe I should… oh whatever, fuck this guy! They attacked me first!_ After making sure that Enzo wasn't looking, Jason had Schizoid Man throw a dart into Keith's leg. _I'm not giving you the satisfaction! I'll eat it without tasting it!_

Something strange happened when the dart connected with its target: Jason felt a jolt. It was something like an electric shock, but it was almost imperceptibly small and ran a path from Keith's leg over to Jason's hand. Before the invisible jolt reached Jason's hand it started to slow down. Concentrating on the sensation, Jason found that he could control the jolt's movements. He made it halt right before it reached his hand. _Is this how my ability works?_ Jason wondered, trying not to look like he was up to something. _This 'jolt' seems to want to run from the dart over to me… so what if I reverse it?_ With minimal effort Jason wordlessly commanded the jolt to run in the other direction. When it hit Keith's leg it seemed to disappear.

Eyeing Keith carefully, Jason put the lasagna in his mouth, hot sauce and all. A few moments later, Keith stood up from his chair.

"Hah? Wha-" Keith's astonishment gave way to rapid panting. "W-water! Gah, h-hot!" Keith dashed to the sink and turned on the faucet, then stuck his open mouth underneath the cold running water.

"Hm?" Enzo watched Keith in innocent confusion. "Did I not wait long enough after taking it out of the oven?"

A satisfied smile crept onto Jason's face. _I get it! Instead of eating the hot sauce and tasting what he did, I made HIM taste it! This could…_ Suddenly it felt like someone lit a fire on top of Jason's tongue, and he quickly realized that the effect had ended. Rushing to where Keith was, Jason knocked him out of the way and took his place underneath the faucet.

Aaliyah poked her head through the kitchen door. "Is it ready yet?"

Enzo gave her a sheepish look and scratched his head. "I'd uh, wait a few more minutes…"

* * *

Shortly after dinner Aaliyah got a phone call. She answered it immediately.

"It's me. Alright, knock and we'll let you in."

At her behest, everyone gathered in the living room. Aaliyah and all of her men save Sid took a seat on the rightmost couch. Sid stood like a glacier, waiting beside the door with an expressionless stare. Jason leaned against the far right wall and tried his best not to look out of place.

"So," Aaliyah addressed the room, though she seemed to be focusing on Jason, "this guy's supposed to be a big shot, but don't worry. Just be cool. And don't say anything about Stands. It'd be a pain in the ass to explain the whole thing."

There was a knock at the door. Sid opened it to reveal two men. The first was in his mid-twenties, a rather odd-looking man with a face one would describe as 'pointed'. Pronounced cheekbones sat above a sharp chin, and his ears were similarly tapered and stuck a bit too far out from his head. A single tuft of hair resided on his skull, a smooth red one shaped like the flame on a candle.

The second looked considerably older, probably around forty. His thick legs and wide back were partially hidden behind his attire, a heavy suitcoat with matching pants. Bushy eyebrows were the only bit of hair on his head, and they highlighted his cold, beady eyes. He cast his eyes about the room as he entered, keeping his large neck as still as he could. Once acclimated, he turned to the long-faced man.

"Thanks for the meal," the bald man said. "That bistro didn't look like much, but they've got pretty good sandwiches."

The long-faced man waved his hand. "No problem."

"But…" The bald man stepped forward and looked Aaliyah in the eyes. His demeanor shifted as he spoke, his words taking on a menacing tone. "The proprietors seemed a bit TOO friendly with your man there. Blanford, was it? I think Blanford took me to a spot on YOUR turf. What do you say to that?"

"Yeah, it was one of ours. They're good people, and we take good care of them." Aaliyah stood up slowly. She was utterly calm even as the bald man looked more and more displeased.

"It was SUPPOSED to be on neutral ground," the bald man chided indignantly.

"We wanted to show ya that we have no ill intentions," Aaliyah responded. "That you're totally safe at one of our spots. Seeing as you agreed to come here, we didn't think you would mind."

His tone softening a bit, the Berger made a circular motion with his hand. "Oh, I know you aren't dumb enough to pull something when we're fifty times bigger than you. I just don't appreciate liars."

The air itself seemed to get more oppressive as Jason watched Aaliyah. The displeasure was evident on her face, but she didn't react with malice like Jason expected her to.

Enzo softly interjected. "With all due respect, there was never an explicit agreement that we would meet somewhere neutral. What we…"

"There are CERTAIN THINGS…" The Berger shouted down Enzo. "…that shouldn't need to be said. 'Don't put a dog and cat together.' 'Foil doesn't go in the microwave.' 'Chase whiskey with cola.' If you call yourself intelligent, then you've made an agreement to follow life's silent rules. When you go against those rules you're not just lying to me, you're lying to life itself! Now I agreed to come here because I find your little group interesting. But if you're going to make stupid mistakes like that, then we have nothing to discuss."

The room fell silent. Aaliyah, Roger, Keith and Blanford all struggled to keep their frustration bottled up. Enzo averted his eyes in guilt. Only Sid and Jason remained stoic.

Suddenly the Berger's attitude shifted again, and his face and shoulders relaxed. "But hey, we were all young once, weren't we, 'Les Jeunes'? So I'll forgive you." Beneath his pleasantries was no small hint of smugness. He plopped down on the empty sofa and made himself at home, laying back and stretching out. "So you want to discuss a partnership?"

"Yeah." Aaliyah sat back down. Leaning forward, she locked her fingers and placed them over her lap. "I'm sure you've heard by now. I'm worried about what the government's gonna do to Montblanc."

"They're not gonna do anything," the Berger replied nonchalantly. "We've kept an eye out for them. Not one sighting in this neighborhood. They know we won't let em' run wild here. So they're staying clear."

"Just yesterday I found out that people are disappearing in Yoruma," Enzo added. "Even with the Radiomen guarding against them, officials still managed to infiltrate before anyone noticed."

"That's got nothing to do with us," the Berger replied unconcerned. "The Bergers have been here for decades. My old man was a member. We know this neighborhood like we know our own names. We're already keepin' this place safe, and once they find their 'chemical' they'll lift the lock-down and everything will be back to normal. You really think the higher-ups will let em' stay here long? It'd be bad press! I'll bet the rest of the world's already crawling up their asses over it!"

"I was abducted," Jason joined the conversation. "They tried to kill me on the way out."

The Berger laughed a little. "You mean you broke out of a compound and they tried to shoot ya? What a shocker!"

"My point is," Jason took a breath to keep his temper from rising. "My point is that they're willing to take anybody. I wasn't… part of this group when they took me. They had women, children, the elderly, all different kinds of people locked up. If they're willing to capture ordinary citizens, and they don't have any problem with killing, then why would they care about public opinion?"

"Kid, that's the ONLY thing they care about. Give it a week, maybe two, and this whole thing will blow over. Once they got the rest of the world breathing down their necks, they'll fold."

"Why are you being…"

"Jojo." Aaliyah motioned for Jason to stop. "What I wanted to ask is for the Bergers to help us keep a lookout. Not just in Montblanc, but citywide. We need to know what they're doin' around us if we wanna keep Montblanc safe."

"Let the other gangs worry about their neighborhoods. Like I said, it's got nothin' to do with us."

"Are you so certain?" Enzo spoke up. "I have it on good authority that they've been here longer than we thought. They may well have been setting up right under our noses." Enzo glanced at Jason before continuing. "On top of that, Basinville has been overrun. Our direct neighbor. For all we know, they may be using Basinville as a stepping stone to get here. The only way we can hold them at bay is if we keep as close an eye on them as possible. Why not learn from the mistakes of the other neighborhoods and use them to our advantage? 'Berger' means 'shepherd', after all. What better way to protect our flock, so to speak, than to keep our eyes on the hills?"

For once the Berger had no smarmy response to give.

"Many years ago Montblanc was overrun, not by the government but by normal citizens. The problems they brought with them changed the neighborhood forever. I'm sure you know that the Bergers formed in response to those problems. If a mere influx of innocent people did so much damage… how much more could the government do?"

The Berger sat upright and turned back to Aaliyah. "You've stepped on a lot of toes in the past. Might be more trouble than it's worth if you bring your enemies with you."

Aaliyah's face hardened. "They fucked with our clients, so we dealt with them. Same as anybody would. And we've always stayed clear of the Bergers."

The Berger shook his finger at Aaliyah. "That's true, that's true."

Jason was impressed. The Berger seemed more attentive, and his smug undertones were starting to fade. _They might actually convince him…_

Standing up again, the Berger meandered over to Aaliyah and the others. "Of course, if we did agree, it would be for a price."

"Of course," Aaliyah responded.

"I don't make those decisions, but I'd say they'd want, oh, 20%? Maybe 25%?"

"Done."

"Really now?" The Berger leaned in closer. "What kind of leader would give up that much of their profit so quickly? Are you giving in because you're intimidated? Or because you're desperate?"

When Aaliyah returned his gaze, her eyes seemed to stare right through him. "All I care about is keeping my city, my people, safe. Nothing else matters."

Backing off, the Berger grinned. "Heh, haha… I think you're serious. That stern look you just gave me… I knew there was something interesting about you guys." The stifling feeling in the air quickly dissipated as the Berger pulled out his phone. "I'll make a call. Even I'm just a mid-level guy. I can't make this decision, but 'he' can. He's always got the boss' ear. So I'll see if we can't set something up. Give me a minute."

Sid opened the door and the Berger stepped outside to make a call.

"Asshole…" Aaliyah muttered once he was out of earshot.

Enzo sighed. "He's certainly short-sighted."

"If we didn't need him, I'd teach him some respect!" Roger looked ready to burst from keeping his frustration pent up.

Jason moved from his spot and peered out the window. It wasn't the Berger that caught his attention, but a vehicle. An unmarked white car with tinted windows sat idle in the street, right outside of the hideout. It didn't look particularly noteworthy. That's what troubled Jason. He turned to Blanford and asked "Did you come here in a white car?"

The long-faced man answered without turning around. "No, a motorcycle. Why?"

"I think someone's…" When Jason looked back the car was gone. _Maybe it's nothing, but…_ A feeling that Jason knew well rapidly grew within him: the feeling of being watched. Before he could bring it to Aaliyah's attention, the Berger reentered.

"Tomorrow at 8:00 PM. Maison des Dés. He wants to meet with you personally. I'll be there too. If you impress him, who knows? We may be working together. Well, that's all I got to say." The Berger made a grandiose sweeping gesture with his arm, as if beckoning someone to walk in front of him. "Now then, if you'll escort me back, please?" He asked Blanford with mock courtesy.

Once Blanford and the Berger were gone, a wave of relief passed through the living room. The tension that had been building up throughout the negotiations crumbled as everyone's spirits lifted.

"Alright! Big Sis did it!" Keith exclaimed. "We're gonna be in with the Bergers!"

"Hang on, we dunno that yet," Roger tried to calm his partner down. "That punk might flake on us."

"I gotta pretty good feeling about it," Aaliyah grinned. "Even a jackass like him knows a deal when he hears one. They get 25% and we get some extra eyes and ears."

"I suppose I'll need to work overtime, then?" Enzo remarked facetiously.

"A'course! I'm not payin' ya to sit around!"

"You don't pay me at all," Enzo snarked.

"Eh, semantics," Aaliyah waved her hand dismissively, still grinning.

Jason found himself grinning too. Once he realized it, however, his grin quickly faded. _Am I really feeling happy for a bunch of thieves and gang members?_

Aaliyah clapped her hands together. "Alright! Tomorrow! Me, Roger, Keith and Jojo are gonna meet with the Bergers! Sid, you stay on the lookout uptown, like you've been doin'. Enzo, you and Blanford hang around just in case."

Jason cleared his throat. _I've gotta ask, gang or not…_ "I've been meaning to ask… if someone can check out the building that I escaped from. It's an old clinic near Cedar and Pennyroyal. White building, six floors, near a bunch of trees. Maybe that's asking a lot, but I wanna know if… they're still there."

"I'm shocked you want anything to do with that place. Is…" Aaliyah stopped when she saw the worry in Jason's downcast eyes. She turned to Enzo. "You up for it, Enzo?"

"Certainly," Enzo replied without a second thought. "Tomorrow morning I'll check it out."

"Th-thank you," Jason replied, equally surprised and relieved. "Just be careful."

"Don't worry, stealth is my specialty!" Enzo smiled his friendly smile.

Checking her phone, Aaliyah waved everyone away. "Alright, time to pack it in!" Approaching Jason, she added "We don't like to stay here too long. Looks suspicious. By the way…" She reached into her pocket and pulled out a few hundred dollars, all of which she relinquished to Jason. "Get yourself a hotel room and something nice to wear! The casino we're goin' to is kinda high profile. You don't wanna stick out, do ya?"

"No, I guess not…" As everyone shuffled outside and started heading their separate ways, Jason hung around a bit longer. "There was a white car sitting outside earlier. It looked suspicious, like it was watching us."

"I wouldn't worry too much," Aaliyah replied as she locked the front door behind her. "This is a busy street. Probly some nobody staring at this dump of a house." She shooed Jason away before he could protest. "See ya! Don't be late!"

* * *

Jason returned to the Cassandra Suite. Enzo, who gave him a ride, seemed surprised that he wanted to stay at such a second-rate establishment, but Jason remarked that it was 'the only hotel he knew how to get to.' After forking over another outlandish sum of money he retired to a room identical to the last one. For a time he laid on the bed and watched the stars, hoping that the tranquil sight would lull him to sleep, but found himself unable to doze off.

Eventually giving up, he flopped on his back and stared at the ceiling. "It's been… a weird week," he stated to no one. "I never thought I'd be helping out a gang leader… especially one that tried to kill me. But…" Jason flipped to his side. "What choice do I have? And honestly…" Jason flipped over again, unable to find a comfortable position. "…they don't seem all THAT bad, somehow… I guess it's true that we want the same thing…"

He chuckled haltingly. "I really do talk to myself too much, huh, mom?"

When Jason finally found repose it quickly led to sleep. His mind apparently clung to his last statement.

* * *

" _You talk to yourssself too much." Jason's mom struggled to appear sober as she spoke with her nine-year-old son. She failed more often than not._

" _I like talking to myself, mom," Jason replied off-handedly. He continued doodling on the piece of paper in front of him, valiantly attempting to draw a giraffe. "You sleep too much, so when I talk to you you just go 'zzzz'," Jason attempted to mimic his mother's snoring._

 _Jason's mom choked out a couple of laughs, then took another swig of vodka. "Don't you… hhhave that thing tomorrow? At school?"_

 _Abandoning his drawing, Jason stood up with a start. "Uh huh! We're having our play at…" Jason rattled off the date and time as his teacher had relayed it to him repeatedly, putting on his best 'adult voice'. "November 12_ _th_ _, at seven o'clock, in the gym! Be there at six o'clock to get into costume! And don't be late!" He marched over to his mother, standing between her and the coffee table that held her drink. "So I gotta be there tomorrow. Don't forget."_

" _I won't, I won't," his mom reassured him. She glanced to and fro, searching for a clock. "Shouldn't you be in bed by now?"_

" _It's only eight, mom," Jason remarked. He giggled a bit before adding "That's why dad bought all those clocks, cuz' you never remember what time it is!"_

 _Jason's mom silently took another long drink._

 _Returning to his spot on the floor, Jason grabbed a fresh sheet of paper and started to write. He spoke to himself quietly as he did so. "Every time I ask mom, she gets real upset. So I'll write it down and give it to her later." He finished his letter within seconds. With a deep sigh, he laid on his stomach and looked it over._

' _When's dad coming home?'_

* * *

Maison des Dés was in the same square as the Cassandra Suite, so it took no time at all for Jason to find it. The casino was a resplendent golden orange and stretched out over twice the distance of the buildings around it. Covered in seemingly glowing yellow windows, two towers jutted up at either side of the building. They were more for décor than function by the look of them; no stairs or gambling machines could be seen within. A gaudy neon sign declaring its name sat between the towers, its lights blinking in and out of existence every few seconds. Above and behind the sign was a statue of a pair of dice, snake eyes to be exact, which leered down at any passersby. The casino seemed as daunting as the prospect of hitting the jackpot within it.

Dressed in a simple black tuxedo with a bow tie, Jason walked across the sprawling casino parking lot. Despite the myriad of people flitting about the rest of the square, the casino crowd looked unusually sparse. A rare few cars broke up the monotony of the parking lot, and even fewer luckless patrons could be seen leaving the building. The lack of a crowd, like so many other things, made Jason uneasy. Reaching into his pocket Jason grabbed the cellphone he had bought with the remainder of Aaliyah's money. For some reason just holding it in his hand helped Jason calm his nerves.

In the distance he saw Aaliyah, Roger and Keith approaching him. Aaliyah wore a buttoned-up black vest over a long-sleeved white shirt, along with her usual black pants and shoes. Her lightning bolt charm bracelet clashed with the rest of her attire, but Jason doubted she cared. Roger wore a light blue shirt with a gray jacket and matching pants. Keith, dressed in a tuxedo similar to Jason's but with a red shirt and tie, scowled as Roger waved Jason over.

"Not many people here," Roger stated the obvious. "They better not try to pull anything…"

Aaliyah scoffed at the notion. "I doubt they'd go through all the trouble. And even if it is a trap, it's nothin' the four of us can't handle. Blowhard probly just bought the place out to impress us."

That seemed to be the case. The nearly empty foyer opened up into a dazzling display of decadence devoid of life. Legions of slot machines stood in lifeless rows, making little of their trademark noises. The card tables were laid bare with nary a card in sight. The circular bar near the middle of the floor had plenty of liquor but no one to serve it. Chandeliers dangled from the ceiling, creating a sea of luminescence that only highlighted the lack of activity. Even the garishly patterned floor beneath the group sounded hollow as they trod upon it.

Before they got far an older gentleman in a tux stopped them. "I'm sorry ma'am, but we are closing early tonight. We do so apologize, and we hope that you will…"

"We're growing the herd." Aaliyah cut him off with a password.

The old man's countenance changed immediately. "I see. Follow me then."

He led them through a set of doors into another section of the floor. Most of the lighting present in the previous room was gone; only a lone light shone on the middle of the floor. Underneath it was a man standing behind a roulette table. His visage partially hidden behind sunglasses, the stocky man touted a white suit with a black pinstripe pattern, as well as a matching white top hat. Several golden rings of various designs and sizes adorned his fingers. In his left hand was a stylish cane, a thin black one with a silver tip. The gleaming silver handle was shaped like the head of a cobra. The man smiled and beckoned the group over.

Holding up a hand to Jason's ear, Roger whispered "Look at Mr. Sunglasses At Night here."

"How y'all doin'?" The man's voice, though deep, was smooth as silk. "Name's Redding. I'll be y'all's entertainment tonight."

Aaliyah cut right to the chase. "Where's our contact?"

With a chuckle, Redding deftly tossed his cane to his other hand. "He's gonna be late, so I'll keep y'all company til' he arrives." Looking up at Jason through his sunglasses, he grinned at the boy and gave his back a friendly pat. "Lookin' good, my man! That bow tie suits ya!"

Jason stammered out an unsure 'Thanks?' as Redding picked up a tiny white ball and held it between two large fingers. "So how bout' it? Wanna try your luck? Just for fun, a'course. Just to pass the time."

Before anyone could object Redding gave the wheel a gentle push. Sliding the ball across the edge of the roulette, he sent it rocketing around and around. "Go on now, take a guess! Which number's it gonna land on?"

Aaliyah gave an annoyed grunt. "Look, we didn't come here to…"

"Red 19!" Keith proclaimed with a gleam in his eye. When confronted by Aaliyah's glare, Keith responded "What? I like roulette! Don't you think it's kinda exciting? So many possibilities staring you in the face, the ball slowly picks its home as…"

"Red 3! Better luck next time!" Redding removed the ball in one swift motion. "You woulda' lost some green if this was for real!"

"Not if I was betting on the outside!"

"Heh heh, not much of a payout though!"

Jason glanced around as Keith argued with Redding. There was no sight of the Berger from yesterday or his boss. The rest of the floor might as well have been a yawning chasm; almost nothing of it could be seen.

"Gimme a marker! I wanna try for real!" Keith's insistence eventually won him a small pile of chips.

"I didn't know you even had credit here," Roger said.

Ignoring his friend, Keith eyed the roulette carefully. "It's a double-zero wheel… so 37:1 for a straight… Hmm…"

Aaliyah's irritation slowly turned to incredulity as she watched Keith size up the table. "Didn't know you were into this stuff, Keith."

Redding gave another deep chuckle. "Well, while he's sizin' things up, how about a drink? On the house, a'course." He produced a mixed drink in a champagne glass, but no one accepted it. With a shrug he set it to the side.

Finally Keith decided on a bet, and declared it while bringing his fist down on the table. "I've decided! Twenty on top line!" He hastily placed four red chips on the betting layout and stared at Redding.

"Heh heh, don't be gettin' too impatient, now!" Again he spun the wheel, and again he sent the ball whirling across the inside edge in the opposite direction. While Keith eagerly awaited the outcome, Redding turned his attention to Jason. "How 'bout it? Wanna give it a go? I'll even lend ya a 5!" Redding tossed a red chip at Jason, and then paced from side to side as he waited for the ball to land. Though not much of a gambler, Jason was getting a bit intrigued, seeing as Keith was taking to it so well. He picked up the chip to examine it.

The moment his hand touched the chip something rammed through it. Gasping in pain he jerked his hand back. There were two cuts oozing blood, but nothing was stuck in it. _It feels like glass shards just got stuck in my hand! But there's nothing there!_

"Jojo, what happened?" Aaliyah yelled.

"I really gotta insist…" Redding brandished the drink again. "…that you have a drink." He held the champagne glass up to the light. Inside the drink was a section of a human finger.

Jason and Aaliyah summoned their Stands.

Redding ignored Jason and grinned wildly at Aaliyah and Station To Station. "I've been wonderin' what your Stand looks like! Now see, I couldn't see that thing when ya busted up my gang! But things are different now, ain't they?"

Aaliyah charged at Redding, but after taking a couple steps forward she was violently knocked to the left by an invisible force. She hit the ground with a thud and struggled as she stood back up. Roger and Keith were at her side in a flash, but she motioned for them to stand back.

Jason gritted his teeth. "If he's got a Stand, why can't I see it? When he attacks, it looks like we're being hit by nothing!"

As Station To Station prepared to throw a knife, Redding pointed his cane at it. "Now like I said, don't be gettin' too impatient. I'm gonna give y'all a scenario." His manic grin didn't diminish one whit as he spoke. "Now imagine that this finger," he held up the glass again, "belongs to the Berger y'all are s'posed to meet. And that his body, or what's left of it, mind, is in a box. Now imagine that two of my men are gonna drive that box somewhere."

Lifting his cane in the air, he pointed to the north. "And where, you may ask? Why, it's goin' straight to a Berger hideaway! And once my men let em' know that 'Big Sis' and her gang butchered him, their boss'll have all y'all dead before daylight!"

Redding pulled the brim of his hat down. "That is, if I don't kill y'all first."

* * *

 **-TO-BE-CONTINUED-**


	5. Take You For A Ride (2)

**STAND: Station To Station**

 **USER: 'Big Sis' Aaliyah (17 years old)**

 **POWER: C SPEED: A RANGE: E (2 meters)**

 **STAYING: C PRECISION: B LEARNING: B**

 **ABILITY: Lays knives that allow the User to teleport.**

 **The User can only travel from one knife to another,**

 **and the knives must be piercing something. Knives**

 **remain where they are placed unless retrieved, or**

 **unless the User moves a certain distance away from them.**

* * *

 **Take You For A Ride (2)**

* * *

"Like hell you will!" Aaliyah yelled as Station To Station threw a knife at Redding. The Stand's aim was true, and the knife sailed through the air toward Redding's leg. However, the knife never hit its target; Redding swung his cane and knocked it away. It landed a meter to his left.

Redding's toothy smirk returned. "Ya know, the more times I tell ya not to get impatient, the more I wonder if y'all are listenin' to anything I'm sayin'." Out of his pocket came a cellphone. He flipped it open and held a finger over the call button. "Now I can call my men right now and have em' deliver the body. OR…" He pointed a bulky finger at Aaliyah. "You can surrender to me right here. I'll take my sweet revenge on you, but the rest of your gang'll be spared. I think that's a pretty good deal, myself. Helluva lot better than what you did to my old crew." Redding leisurely paced to the left, nearing the knife he had deflected. "Take me up on my offer, and I'll just burn the body and throw the ashes in the river. I'm sure the rest of y'all can smooth things over with the Bergers, seein' as how there won't be no evidence. Now, what do y'all say to…"

Redding stopped when he saw Roger raise his gun and point it at him. Mere moments before the gun went off, Redding made a motion with his foot. A loud bang resounded throughout the room. A tiny 'clang' was heard when the bullet lost all momentum and fell to the floor centimeters away from Redding.

Aaliyah didn't give Redding any time to breathe; she planted a knife at her feet and warped to the knife she had thrown earlier. Luckily, it had landed blade-down and was stuck in the floor. But before she could attack she was again assaulted by an unseen force, a blunt one that sent her flying a couple meters back. She shook her head as she climbed back to her feet. "Dammit… Every time I get near him, somethin' knocks me away! That's gotta be his power… but how's he doin' it?"

Redding let out a long harsh laugh as he watched Aaliyah. "Guess I'll take that as a 'no'!" Redding brought his phone up to his ear.

Suddenly Keith started stomping toward Redding. The fury in his eyes was palpable. "I can't just stand back and watch… I gotta do something!" Grabbing the roulette table, he flipped it over and held a fist out toward Redding. "You think you can threaten Les Jeunes and get away with it?! We're gonna kick your ass, then stand ya back up and kick it again!"

Redding watched Keith with an amused grin. "Is that right? Then come on over here and show me somethin'!"

Aaliyah frantically waved Keith away. "Get back, dammit! If a bullet couldn't hit him, what makes you think you can?!"

As Keith ignored his leader's orders and continued toward Redding he suddenly stopped and slammed his foot on the ground. Instantly his foot was impaled by several small imperceptible objects. Keith howled as the invisible objects bored their way into his flesh. "Goddammit…! He…gah…! He put glass in my foot! Don't…"

Jason observed the scene closely, trying to ascertain how Redding was repelling anything that got near him. "If his Stand is this fast, how can we hit him?" Jason noticed something at the spot Keith had stopped at, near where the roulette table had been overturned. It was some sort of symbol, one that looked like it had been spray-painted on the floor. It was the same color as the rose-tinted patterned tiles it laid upon, so it was difficult to make out. At first it appeared to be composed of random shapes, but a few moments' consideration revealed that it was made up of letters: two letter 'T's and one letter 'C'. One 'T' was upside down, the other was right-side up, and they intersected to form a small square in the middle. The 'C' encircled the 'T's. Jason realized that it had to be connected with Redding's Stand. "It's the symbol you stepped on!" Jason yelled to his allies. "That has to be how he's attacking us! Don't step on the symbols!"

Aaliyah glanced at Jason, and then looked back at her planted knife. Right in front of it was another symbol. "So that's how he knocked me away! He set a symbol right on the spot I warped to!"

Instead of getting angry like Jason expected him to, Redding just widened his grin even more. "Just knowin' that ain't gonna help much! A buncha impatient amateurs like y'all don't have what it takes to beat my Stand! Now, if you'll excuse me…" With a flourish he raised his phone again. "Send the package."

"Roger! Keith! Take the car and follow them! Do NOT let them reach the Bergers!" Aaliyah jerked her head toward Jason. "Jojo and me'll take care of this asshole! Get going!"

"Right!" Roger tended to Keith, putting his arm over his shoulder to hoist him up. Keith held up a hand, urging Roger to wait a moment.

"Jojo!" Keith called out. "I may not like ya… but I gotta leave this to you! I traded my foot for a clue, so ya damn well better use it!"

It took Jason a moment to glean the meaning behind Keith's words. "You mean, you stepped on that symbol on purpose?! How careless can you…"

"Big Sis and Les Jeunes are like family to me! Before them, I was headed nowhere… just a loser lookin' for the next high… didn't give a damn about anybody, including myself… but when I met Big Sis, she proved to me that I could make somethin' outta myself!"

Despite the current predicament, Jason couldn't help but listen in rapt attention. Something in his voice was different. In place of the hot-headed braggadocio Jason expected was conviction.

"Big Sis did more than just give me a 'home'… she gave me a purpose! Somethin' to hold onto, somethin' to strive towards! Compared to that, what's a foot? Or an arm? Or an eye? I don't expect you to get it… probly think we're just a buncha punks off the street… but whether I like it or not, you're one of us now! Big Sis would do a lot for you, just like she would any of us! So you better return the favor!"

"Keith!" Aaliyah kept her eyes on her enemy as she demanded Keith's attention, but the tone of her words gave the impression that she was smiling. "I'll be alright. You did good! Now get going!"

Though he offered no resistance as Roger lugged him across the room and out the door, Keith stared firmly at Jason until he was out of sight.

Jason set aside Keith's words for the moment and narrowed his eyes at Redding. "You just gonna let them go? I think it's strange that you're not trying to stop them…"

Another throaty laugh escaped Redding's lips. "Oh, I ain't worried. My boys gotta trump card up their sleeve." Shifting his attention back to Aaliyah, he pointed his cane at her. "They'll find out soon enough!"

With a scowl Aaliyah made Station To Station ready another knife. Even as its bony arm drew back, Redding remained unconcerned. "Ya really think I dunno how that Stand works? I remember when you took on my old gang, clear as day! We thought we were seein' double! Every time we turned around you were somewhere else! So go ahead and warp! I'll have a nice lil' present waitin' for ya!"

Station To Station quickly snatched up its last knife from its sheath, then hurled its two blades forward. Both flew past Redding and landed a bit behind him, one on each side. Redding sprang into action and, with a flick of his wrist, touched the ground near each knife with his cane. A symbol appeared at each spot his cane touched, and both enveloped the floor at the base of each knife. "Heh! Now the only knife you can warp to without touchin' a symbol is the one at my left! I know exactly where you'll… Gggah!"

As Redding turned to face his opponent he caught a knife in the sternum. He yanked the bloodied weapon out, clenching his teeth in both pain and ire as Aaliyah sported a mocking grin. "You don't know a damn thing about my Stand!" she proclaimed as Station To Station flew towards him.

"She distracted him with the two knives, then threw the one at her feet at him." Jason smirked as he watched Aaliyah's Stand close the gap between it and Redding. "Sometimes the simplest answer is the best one!"

Just before Station To Station's fist could meet Redding's chest, he slammed his foot against the ground, creating a symbol. When he stepped on it a second time another invisible source of pressure appeared, shoving Station To Station and, by extension, Aaliyah backwards. The ghostly blow was blunt and felt much like the other two that Aaliyah suffered, though this one drew a bit of blood. "Dammit!" Aaliyah cursed as she picked herself up off the ground. "He can activate those things himself… Almost had him…"

Aiming to take advantage of Aaliyah's attack, Jason sprinted towards Redding. He stopped just shy of the symbol at his feet and sent Schizoid Man in his stead. As Schizoid Man's arm shot towards Redding, the gangster activated his nearest symbol. Schizoid Man's fist grazed Redding's face before the familiar invisible projection sent it flying back. Redding wasn't seriously hurt but the blow did hit him hard enough to make him lose the knife he was holding onto.

Aaliyah jumped and eagerly snatched her missing knife out of the air. She launched it back at Redding, but another tap of his foot repelled the knife, turning it on its owner. "Shit!" A last-second tilt of her head avoided the whirling blade, and Station To Station quickly retrieved it for her. She cautiously circled around the battlefield to join Jason. Redding made no move to stop her. She found herself out of breath by the time she arrived at Jason's side. "It's gettin' harder and harder to get a hit in on him! Got any ideas?"

Jason found her haggard breath concerning. _The blows must be starting to take their toll…_ Throbbing pain in his right hand demanded Jason's attention. _There's no glass actually IN my hand, even though it feels like there is…_ Redding's actions confused him; he remained utterly passive, simply pacing about as he watched his opponents regroup. Though he clutched his wound he was grinning like he no longer felt its sting. A new symbol appeared on the ground with his every step. "He's limiting our movement bit by bit… We need to…" His voice trailed off when he took note of the roulette table that Keith had flipped over. Right next to it were the shattered remnants of the champagne glass. _First sharp attacks, then blunt ones…_

"Schizoid Man, destroy that table!" "ORAORAORAORA!" Schizoid Man yelled as its powerful red arms splintered the table into pieces.

From out of the wooden wreckage came an apparition, one that appeared to slither through the air as it flew toward Redding at blinding speeds. Within a blink's time it was at his side. Redding's Stand was a humanoid figure with an acidic yellow body. It was slim and lithe, a far cry from its short and stocky User. Its skin was patterned with triangular shapes, defined by thick red lines that ran throughout its body. Its elbows and knees were guarded by thin circular pads colored the same red hue as its markings. The top half of its head was covered with a red helmet crowned with small dull spikes, and similarly designed fingerless gloves adorned its hands. Its lime green eyes gave off an eerie glow.

Redding looked as confident as ever. "Lemme introduce y'all to 「CROSSTOWN TRAFFIC」! I'll call that your reward for forcin' it outta its hiding place! Take a good look, cuz you ain't catchin' it again!" Jason and Aaliyah's eyes had adjusted to the nearby darkness, so they were able to make out where Crosstown Traffic fled to as it nimbly slid through the air. It flew over to a row of rather large slot machines near the back of the room and disappeared into one of them.

"So that's where the invisible forces are comin' from!" Aaliyah exclaimed. "Whatever the Stand goes into is what we're gettin' hit with!"

"Got it in one!" Redding took out a poker chip and began flipping it like a coin. "Ya know that old trick where ya tie string to a fake quarter? You can use it as many times as ya want! It never gets 'used up'! My ability is kinda like that: I can hit you with any object as many times as I want. It never gets damaged, worn down, nothin'." The gangster straightened his tie. "You can't get near me. Y'all are like turtles tryin' to cross the highway. And I've just been playin' with ya so far. So…" Redding motioned toward Aaliyah. "I'll give ya one last chance to give up. If ya do, I'll tell my men to forget about the corpse. I'll even let your boy here go scot-free. C'mon, think about it. You can keep your whole crew safe. I won't go after em', and neither will the Bergers. Now whaddaya say?"

 _Geez, how cocky can you be?!_ Jason's irritation grew while he tried to think of a plan. He wasn't sure which slot machine Crosstown Traffic was hiding in, nor was he sure that he'd even be able to reach it without touching one of the myriad symbols that were strewn about. "Hey, did you…" Jason started to ask Aaliyah something but stopped when she cut him off.

"I say you're a coward."

Redding cocked his head a bit. "You wanna run that by me again?"

"What are you, deaf?! I said you're spineless! You keep tellin' me to give up, like it's doin' me a favor! You don't follow up any of your attacks, and you're so desperate to keep me away from ya that you've set, like, a dozen of those traps!" Aaliyah put her hands to her hips and leaned forward, smirking all the while. "You want me to give up cuz' you're too chickenshit to fight me!"

Finally, Redding's composure began to crumble. His grin slowly warped into a scowl as he tightened his grip on his cane.

Aaliyah's mocking tone grew more and more exaggerated as she went on. "Ya know, I'm startin' to remember when I busted up your sorry-ass gang! You were extorting the Allen family, tellin' em' you were gonna wreck their shop if they didn't pay up!" Aaliyah ran her finger across her forehead. "I gave you a nice big cut, didn't I? Probly left an ugly scar! Is that why you're wearin' that dumbass hat?"

Through clenched teeth, Redding spoke just loud enough for all present to hear. "You best watch your mouth…"

"Or what?! You ain't gonna do shit! So just sit tight, you scared little bastard! I'll get around your Stand and give ya more than just scars!"

"Is she trying to goad him into making a mistake, or is she just venting?" Jason muttered to himself.

The suit-wearing gangster looked ready to burst. His head shook as though he was barely holding in an enraged scream. When he stepped forward it was with vigorous stomps. He aggressively waved his cane in Aaliyah's direction. "You little bitch! When I'm done with you, there ain't gonna be enough of you left to scrape off the ground! I'll smash you into fucking paste!"

Aaliyah motioned for her opponent to come hither. "Oh, blah blah blah! Come and get me, asshole!"

Jason grew anxious and got ready to dodge when Redding dug through his pocket. Sporting a malicious sneer, Redding held up its contents: a bag full of small colorful balls. A tiny symbol wrapped around every one of them. "I've 'touched' every one a' these marbles! You wanna find out what that means?!" Redding dumped some marbles on the floor and brought his foot down. "HERE!"

It was as though a great gust of wind had suddenly manifested in the casino; the marbles were launched across the room, scattering as they rapidly approached Jason and Aaliyah. Though surprised at their breakneck speed, Aaliyah managed to avoid the marbles and deflected a couple of them with Station To Station. Jason wasn't as lucky: despite Schizoid Man's attempts to block them, one of the marbles grazed his leg. What felt like 150 kilograms of force smashed into Jason. The air was beaten out of his lungs as the invisible force flung him onto the floor. He rolled to a stop. With both back and front bruised, Jason struggled to lift himself back up. _That one hit way harder than the last one…_ _Even the smallest touch will activate those symbols…_

Redding emptied his bag of marbles, spilling them on the floor. He started to launch another volley as Jason and Aaliyah prepared themselves for the assault.

* * *

An unmarked sleek silver car sped through the streets of downtown Montblanc.

"Goddammit!" Roger cursed as a busy signal resounded from his phone. "Sid isn't answering, and Enzo's too far away!"

"Try Blanford!" Keith demanded, doing his best to keep track of the car they were pursuing. The gun in his hand was starting to dampen from the sweat coating his palm.

Roger skillfully wove between two slower cars while dialing his comrade's number. "C'mon, pick up the damn phone!" he impatiently urged as the call went through.

"[Hello?]" Blanford's voice came in loud and clear.

"It's Roger, we've got a problem! We need to stop some guys from getting to the Bergers! They're headed for Lorraine Avenue!"

"[Are you sure?]"

"That's their nearest hideout! Where are you?"

"[On Milieu!]"

"We're on Arpitan! They're in a maroon car, license plate CEH 476! We can't let em' get away!"

"[Got it! On my way!]"

The call ended. Roger made a sharp turn across two lanes when he saw the maroon car suddenly abandon its course and head right. Garish clubs and bars sped by as Roger stayed on his target's tail. "Gotta stay off the busier roads…" Luckily the traffic was thinning as they moved further and further away from the casino, so they were able to drive with greater impunity. Roger floored it and the gap between them and the gangsters promptly shrunk. Keith leaned out of the passenger side window and aimed his gun at the maroon car.

The maroon car had three occupants. The first drove like a man possessed, doing all he could to stay away from his pursuers. The second sat in the back seat and brandished his own pistol when he spotted Keith. He reached down and pulled up the third occupant: the suited Berger that had met with Les Jeunes the day before. The Berger glowered as the gangster next to him held the gun at his temple.

"Shit!" Keith yanked himself back into the car. "They've got the guy from yesterday!"

Roger grimaced. "He's the only witness, the only guy that knows we didn't kill our contact! If they kill him then it's over!" Reluctantly he eased off of the gas pedal. The maroon car sped up at the same time, and in seconds they were nearly past the block and out of sight.

"What are you doin'?!" Keith sounded ready to take the wheel from Roger. "We're gonna lose em'!"

"No we ain't!" An abrupt left turn put them on a tiny one-way street. Their speed shot back up and didn't falter, even as Roger took to the sidewalk to pass a sluggish car. He took the next right, rocketing through the cramped backroad until it ended at a three-way stop. Roger slammed the breaks and the car screeched to a halt. "Keith, listen for em' and get ready!"

Keith put his head back out the window and listened. Sure enough, the sound of a car traveling well past the speed limit filled his ears.

"Here they come! Shoot their tires!"

Just as Keith readied his gun the maroon car appeared. The two shots he fired missed their mark and did little more than make noise. The enemy gangsters didn't even flinch, and the maroon car swiftly passed them by.

Roger hit the gas and the silver car roared. Within moments they were back in pursuit. He gave Keith a quick glance. "If we know where they're headed we can cut em' off! Hopefully Blanford gets his ass down here soon, then we can…"

"If we do that they'll just shoot the hostage!" Keith gesticulated wildly as he yelled at his partner. "We gotta get a good shot and take out the gunman!"

"That's too risky, we might end up hittin' the Berger!"

"We can just say they killed him! We can't let em' get there first!"

Roger started to get just as heated as Keith was. "Look, I don't like the guy either, but we ain't gonna get him killed if we can help it!"

"If that's what I gotta do to keep this group safe, then I'll fuckin' do it! We can explain it away if we get there first! Or just tell em' he died in the crossfire! They'll…"

A backhand to the face silenced Keith. He turned red with anger and was ready to come to blows until Roger held up his hand. "That ain't how we do things. What's rule number two? 'Innocent people are off-limits!' And as far as I'm concerned, that Berger is innocent! He didn't have nothin' to do with this whole mess! So if we can keep him alive then we're gonna keep him alive! Got it?!"

"They've got a gun to his head! They could just shoot him the next time we get near em'!"

"No, they can't." Roger kept his eyes on the road, but imagined that Keith's expression was one of disbelief. "Think about it. If they kill him then they've got nothin' to stop us from shooting them! It's like they got a rook right next to our king, but we got one right next to theirs! We're at a stalemate!"

Keith started to calm down. "Then what are we supposed to do?"

"Like I said, we gotta slow em' down first! As soon as I find a good-lookin' backroad we can cut em' off. If we can get em' to wreck or maybe shoot the driver, then we've got a chance." Keith let out a frustrated sigh but said nothing more.

Keeping a middling distance between himself and the maroon car, Roger followed them down a smaller road, one with more pedestrians than normal. He was forced to slow down when an absent-minded group jaywalked across the street. Roger laid on the horn and yelled for them to get out of the way. In front of them the maroon car faced a similar issue: young adults too preoccupied with their conversations were crossing. The enemy gangsters, however, had no intentions of slowing down.

The maroon car plowed through the pedestrians. They flew over the vehicle and hit the ground in a crumpled heap. Spatters of red caked the windshield of the maroon car as the gangsters drove away, heedless of the panicked screams behind them.

Roger shook away his shock at what had just unfolded and stayed focused on the road. He carefully avoided the bloodied pedestrians, giving them a wide berth as he drove around them. Once on the other side he returned to his high-speed chase.

Keith clenched his fist so hard that it started to hurt. "Those bastards didn't even slow down! Not even for a second! They don't give a damn about the innocent! We can't let em' get away with this!"

"We're not goin' to." Roger's response was quiet but resolute.

For the next thirty seconds or so they sat in silence as they continued to follow the gangsters. Keith broke the silence by taking a police scanner out from the glove compartment and turning it on. "There's gotta be cops headin' this way by now."

The first frequency he found described a different crime. "[There's a 415 at Maison des Dés. Old man stuck his head in and saw fighting. En route, over.]"

"Shit…" Keith whispered. He stared out the window at the darkened sky. "Jojo, you better come through for us…"

* * *

"Whaddaya think? Are y'all laughin' now?" Redding had regained some measure of poise as he walked about the room, planting more symbols with every footstep. However, though he wasn't screaming anymore his words retained all of their venom. "Crosstown Traffic controls 'space'! When I lay a symbol, that 'space' becomes mine! Gettin' in my 'space' is the same as jumpin' in front of a speeding car!"

Jason and Aaliyah both were in no position to refute his statements. Each of them had been hit with a marble, and the ensuing release of force had sent them careening across the room. Blood came out when Jason coughed. He tried to ignore the lingering feeling of crushing pressure on his torso as he slowly climbed to his feet. _He seems really prideful, so I thought making him mad would have made him sloppy… but it just made him more dangerous!_ He stole a look at Aaliyah, who wasn't any better off than he was. "We gotta destroy those slot machines! That's where his Stand went, right? When I destroyed the table, it forced the Stand out. We'll smoke out the Stand by destroying its hiding spots!"

Aaliyah gave a skeptical reply while gasping for air. "How are we… gonna get to em'? He's got symbols near em'." She glanced at each of her three planted knives. All of them had a symbol surrounding them. "He's got my knives locked down. If I had… one more I could warp over there…"

Redding pulled something else out of his pocket. This time it was a roll of quarters with symbols on them. He unwrapped and dropped them all at his feet. "Guess what? Every one of em' is part a' my 'space'!"

"Damn… I dunno if I can… dodge em' all…" Aaliyah looked around the room. "Gotta be… somewhere that's safe…"

Jason joined her in examining the room, and quickly spotted a few tables behind them. He ran to them and beckoned Aaliyah to join him. "Get behind a table, quick!"

Redding put his foot down and the quarters were jettisoned toward his opponents.

"Schizoid Man!" The crimson Stand knocked over the nearest table, and Jason jumped behind it. He got on the ground and hid behind the table's circular top. Aaliyah copied Jason and hid behind the table nearest her. She gritted her teeth as the quarters rapidly closed in and waited for the impact… but it never came. The quarters bounced harmlessly off the tables' top surfaces.

"Your knives are still stuck in the ground," Jason explained. "And Redding has to activate the symbols with his foot… so that means inanimate objects don't set them off! Only living beings!"

Schizoid Man grabbed the table and lifted it up in the air. The Stand flanked Jason as he ran headlong at Redding.

Redding angrily pointed a finger at the boy. "Ya think that's gonna help?! Go ahead, try and hit me! If you don't trip a symbol, I will! I'll turn your damn bones into dust!"

Stopping at the edge of Redding's perimeter, Jason made Schizoid Man throw the table at him. With a sweep of his foot Redding dismissed the table, shredding it into wooden pieces as it was blasted away. "You call that an attack?!"

"No, I call it a distraction!" Jason leapt into the air. As he flew over the sea of symbols he commanded Schizoid Man to shoot a dart, but it was deflected just as easily as the table. _As long as I can keep him occupied…_ When gravity forced him back to the ground Jason reached out and grabbed one of Station To Station's knives. He hit the floor and the symbol below him activated, painfully shooting him back near Aaliyah. Though in considerable agony and nursing what felt like bruised ribs, Jason forced a grin as he held up his prize. "Got one."

Aaliyah took the knife from him. Immediately her vitality returned and she grinned back at her partner. "I owe ya one!" Taking aim at the slot machines, Station To Station launched a knife at one while Aaliyah buried the other in the floor. In an instant Aaliyah was next to the row of slot machines. She wasted no time; Station To Station flew behind the first slot machine and let loose a squall of punches. Though they weren't as strong as Schizoid Man's, the sheer amount of them made up some of the difference. The orange Stand knocked the machine a meter or so away. From the dented and damaged machine came Crosstown Traffic. Before Station To Station could attack, Crosstown Traffic phased into the next slot machine.

Station To Station hastily repeated the process and pummeled each slot machine into disrepair. Each one flew further away than the last. Crosstown Traffic was forced to flee every machine in quick succession.

After the fifth iteration Redding cried out to Aaliyah. "Don't you ever give the fuck up?!" From the depths of his seemingly endless pockets came a handful of poker chips. This time he launched them all at Aaliyah. Aaliyah took cover behind the remaining slot machines until the barrage stopped. "Quit hidin', bitch! Get out here!"

Aaliyah dashed to the first slot machine she had destroyed and jumped on top of it. "Gladly!" She leaped to the next downed machine, and then to the next, slowly making her way to Redding. "Your Stand's too fast to hit… but you sure as hell aren't!"

Jason watched Aaliyah with astonishment. "She didn't just take away the hiding spots… she made a 'path' out of them!" Indeed, the five slot machines lying on the ground covered up the expanse of symbols and provided safe passage over them.

Redding began to sweat when he realized what his opponent had done. He threw his last poker chip at Aaliyah, but Station To Station effortlessly blocked it. He nervously took a couple of steps forward, preparing to activate the symbols near the slot machines. "Dammit… If I knock em' away, I'll just be gettin' closer to her!" With timid steps he backed away from the rapidly approaching Aaliyah. "Shit, shit, shit… I can't get too close, and I can't put a symbol on myself…" He turned to his left and looked out the nearest window. _It's risky, and the symbols won't activate while my Stand is away, but I got no choice…_ he thought to himself. "Crosstown Traffic!" The nimble yellow Stand flew out of its hiding place and made for the window.

Aaliyah didn't seem to notice the Stand as it fled the building. She was completely focused on her foe. Her eyes widened in rage as she leapt atop the last slot machine, now dangerously close to Redding. For a few seconds she simply stood there looming over Redding, as though she wanted to savor the moment. Suddenly Station To Station threw a single punch, aimed not at Redding but at his hat. Knocking it off revealed a jagged, uneven scar running lengthwise across the top of his forehead. Redding immediately snatched his hat up and put it back on. "I knew it," Aaliyah growled.

Redding's temper blazed as he growled back. "Every time I see that damn scar I hafta be reminded a' you! I ain't ever gonna rest easy til' I watch you die! I didn't have my Stand when you gave me this! It was like bein' attacked by a demon! You know what it's like feelin' so helpless?! Feelin' like…"

Station To Station shut him up with a fist to the face. "I'll show you what 'helpless' feels like!"

Her Stand unleashed a torrent of blows upon Redding. They rained down upon his face, arms, legs, chest, every bit of the front of his body. The flurry of punches was even faster than the one she had suffered at the hands of Schizoid Man, and it pummeled Redding so quickly he could barely process it. With one last haymaker Station To Station sent Redding flying into the wall headfirst. He slumped onto the ground, weakly grabbing his face with his hands. Moments later his hands fell and he stopped moving.

Jason breathed a sigh of relief. Though it was difficult, he took a few steps forward to get a better look at Redding. "He's out cold." He grew a bit concerned when he saw that the symbols were still there, both on the ground and on the numerous objects that had been thrown at them. "I kinda thought they'd disappear once we beat him, but maybe I'm wrong…"

Aaliyah dismissed her Stand and jumped onto the ground. She called out to Jason. "Just stay there for a sec! I'm gonna get him to call off his goons, and then I'm gonna beat some info out of him! Then we'll get you fixed up!" She strolled over to Redding and lifted him up by his collar. She slapped him across the face a couple of times. "Time to wake up, asshole! I got some questions for ya!" His head limply hung to the side as blood trickled down his face. "Heh, maybe I hit him a little too hard. C'mon, you…"

Redding jolted back to life. Before Aaliyah could react, Redding spit something at her. It was one of the gold rings he was wearing, and on it was a tiny symbol. The ring hit Aaliyah in the face.

The invisible force that drove her back made the previous ones seem like a gentle breeze. She launched through the air like a rocket and hit the wall near the window with a sickeningly loud bang. She collapsed on the ground, twitching in shock from the blow. She desperately clung to consciousness as she choked out "Wh-what… hap-…pened?"

"Aaliyah!" Jason yelled as he fought to get his battered body to run. He summoned his Stand and approached Redding, who leaned on his cane to stay standing.

"Heh heh… if y'all wanna know what hit ya just now… take a look outside," Redding pointed at the window. Jason briefly took his advice. It was hard to make out what was there due to the poor lighting, but he figured it out quickly. His eyes went wide when he figured out where Crosstown Traffic was hiding.

A black car sat in the parking lot.

"I was savin' that for the finale… But y'all forced my hand," Redding laughed while gradually straightening his back. He held out his right hand; the ring that used to be on his index finger was missing. "I stuffed a ring in my mouth right after that bitch hit me into the wall. I was just playin' possum til Crosstown Traffic reached my car." He turned to face Aaliyah. "Now here's a scenario for ya: before I get my revenge on you, I'm gonna torture your boy here to death. And I'm gonna make you watch." The gangster made his way towards Jason. "Ya see, fightin' is just like gambling. You start small, testin' the waters." He took a step forward. "Then when ya know what the other guy has, you go a little further…" Another step. "Then a little further…" Another step. "Then, at last, you go for the kill. That's the only way to enjoy it."

Redding pointed his cane at Jason. "Tell me somethin', boy. You ever been hit by a car?"

* * *

 **-TO-BE-CONTINUED-**


	6. Take You For A Ride (3)

**Take You For A Ride (3)**

* * *

The Volonté Dans La Pierre stuck out like a sore thumb. It was one of the last vestiges of the neighborhood's ancestry, and the only one within downtown Montblanc that still stood. The decades of neglect it had endured were evident; its thick stone walls were cracked and worn, and the diminutive columns stationed along its front looked ready to crumble. Though not nearly as massive as the French baroque palaces it emulated, the pale brown monument stood thrice as tall as the buildings surrounding it. Aside from the occasional wandering eyes of tourists few took notice of the once elegant chateau. Its multiple rectangular windows seemed to stare down at the streets, silently watching the descendants of its architects.

The maroon car zoomed down Seine Avenue. Roger and Keith followed.

"They're headed for the Volonté something something! Is that their target?" Keith pointed at the ancient monument as it peeked out of the horizon.

"Yeah, that's the Berger's hideout!" Roger replied as he pulled out his phone. "Figures that they'd pick such a pretentious spot!"

Roger was staying a safe distance away from the maroon car; close enough to tail them, but not so close that they'd feel threatened enough to kill their hostage. Once their destination came into view the gangsters picked up speed.

"They're getting close! Just a few more blocks!" Keith was getting increasingly anxious.

"I know, I know!" Roger picked up his phone and called Blanford. "It's me, I'm on Seine and Odet, where are you?"

"[I'm ahead of you, on Meyenne!]"

"Alright, head for the Volonté, get there first!"

Keith's turned to something strange in his peripheral vision. He could have sworn that he saw two large pearl white objects on top of an apartment building. They seemed to flap and bend like wings, though he couldn't make out what they were attached to. Keith looked over his shoulder as they raced past. "Was that a bird? Looked too big to be a bird…"

"Keith!" Roger gave Keith a push. "Focus!"

Keith's attention snapped back to the matter at hand. He noticed a great deal of parked cars in the distance. "Isn't there a concert tonight?"

"What? What does it matter?!"

"There's cars parked all along the sides of the road! They're blocking some of the side roads! We can't cut em' off, we gotta stop em' here!" Keith took out his gun and started to line up a shot. "I gotta take out the gunman!"

Roger's eyes widened as a realization dawned on him. "No, wait! I've got an idea!"

"If we wait any longer, they'll kill the witness! They won't need him anymore once they get to the hideout! Or they'll open fire on us! I've gotta…"

"Just WAIT!" Roger raised his phone back to his ear. "Blanford, stay on Meyenne! Wait for my signal, then gun it and shoot the driver!"

"[Wha… Alright! Standing by!]"

Roger spoke before Keith could open his mouth in protest. "We're gonna kill both of them at the same time! We've only got one chance, so make damn sure you've got a good shot!"

"Yeah, no pressure or anything!" Keith leaned out of the passenger side window. He aimed his gun at the gunman in the back seat. The gunman, in response, put his gun against the suited Berger. Both of them glared daggers at Keith as Roger closed the distance between them.

"Wait for it, we're almost there! This is a one-way street, and with the cars they've got nowhere to run!" Roger kept his eyes on the road signs as they quickly passed by.

"You're getting too close, they're gonna kill him!" Keith steadied his gun hand with his free one. "I got a shot, I have to take it!"

The maroon car swerved from side to side but Keith kept a bead on the gunman. The gunman narrowed his eyes and put his finger on the trigger. Suddenly he swung his arm and pointed his gun at Roger. "Roger!" Keith screamed.

A sign reading 'Meyenne Street' came into view.

"Now!"

Keith took the shot. The back windshield of the maroon car shattered and the gunman fell.

A blue motorcycle roared onto the avenue. The high-speed left turn it took nearly caused it to wreck, but it righted itself at the last second and quickly caught up with the maroon car. Even through the rider wore a helmet and padded riding jacket, Roger and Keith easily recognized him as Blanford. By the time the maroon car's driver took out a gun Blanford had already raised his own. He glanced at the Berger before putting a bullet between the driver's eyes.

Before the unmanned car could spiral out of control, the Berger jumped into action. He climbed into the front of the car and took the wheel. Once he had stopped the vehicle from swerving into a parked car, he slammed the breaks. Roger and Blanford did the same, and all three vehicles skidded to a halt.

The four men congregated in the middle of Seine Avenue. Roger and Keith breathed a collective sigh of relief when they saw the Berger emerge from the maroon car unscathed.

The Berger didn't look pleased when he approached Keith. "You could've killed me, asshole! That shot nearly took me out too!"

"You wanna say that again?!" Keith stomped a path over to the Berger. The bulging vein in his forehead looked ready to erupt. "We just saved your sorry ass! How about you…"

"KEITH!" Roger grabbed Keith by the arm and jerked him away. "Chill. Out. We're not done yet. We gotta get back to the casino." Keith shot a parting glare at the Berger before following Roger back to their silver car.

Blanford put a hand on the Berger's shoulder. "We need to go and explain this whole thing. Alright?"

The Berger slowly approached the maroon car. He peered into the backseat. The box containing the contact's body stared back at him. "Yeah… alright," the Berger replied somberly.

The three vehicles revved up and the abandoned the scene. Only tire marks and broken glass marked their struggle.

* * *

 **STAND: Crosstown Traffic**

 **USER: Redding (29 years old)**

 **POWER: E SPEED: A RANGE: A**

 **STAYING: D PRECISION: D LEARNING: D**

 **ABILITY: Allows the User to plant symbols on**

 **nearly any surface. Any living thing that touches**

 **a symbol will be assaulted by an invisible pressure.**

 **The object that the Stand is hiding in determines**

 **the strength and properties of the pressure.**

* * *

With a touch of his cane Redding sent the slot machine nearest him flying. Wires and chunks of plastic jettisoned from the wreckage as it shot across the room. Redding derisively shook a finger at Jason. "The same trick ain't workin' twice."

Redding took off one of his rings and dropped it at his feet. As soon as he brought his foot down Jason threw himself on the floor. The ring zoomed through the air at breakneck speeds, missing Jason only by a hair's breadth. It hit the wall with such force that it was launched back the way it came. It nearly traveled the length of the room again before hitting the ground.

Jason looked over his shoulder. Aaliyah still languished in the corner, and for all her struggling she could only manage to sit herself up against the wall. She wiped off some blood from her forehead with a shaking hand. "Nevermind me, keep your eyes on him!" Despite her current state, Aaliyah's words were as impassioned as ever. Jason did as she ordered.

 _She's banged up pretty badly, and she doesn't have any knives left. I'm on my own now…_

Shifting his weight off of his cane, Redding sneered in Aaliyah's direction. "That's right bitch, just sit tight and watch! I'll have your boy beggin' for death real soon!"

Jason stood up as straight as he could before addressing his opponent. "Do you own a white car?"

Redding blurted out a surprised "What?"

"Your car outside… it's a black one. I saw a white car yesterday. It was spying on us. That was you, wasn't it?"

Redding's chuckle quickly grew into an amused laugh. "Yeah, it was. See, I've been planning this thing for a couple months now, ever since that bitch broke up my gang." He slowly paced about as he continued. "Didn't have much to work with, a'course. Lotta my men were so scared they quit on the spot. Spineless little… Anyway, I found out that the Bergers and y'all were plannin' somethin', and that's when I finally got a lead. I caught wind of one a' y'all meetin' a Berger at Belle's Café, so I tailed em' and followed em' back to y'all's place. Heh heh, guess neither one of y'all Stand Users saw my Crosstown Traffic listenin' in on ya from outside the window, did ya?"

"So you got your Stand in the past couple of months, right?"

"That's right! And I've been honin' it all this time, all for tonight." Redding turned to Aaliyah and sneered. "Listen to him! This boy don't even know the score, and yet you got him fightin' for ya! He's gonna die a miserable death, and it's all because of you!" Aaliyah clenched her teeth and narrowed her eyes, but said nothing.

His sneer still remained when he faced Jason again. "Shit, I almost feel sorry for ya! Don't it make ya wanna curse her name? You're about to die 'cuz of her!"

Jason met the sneer with a steely gaze. His response was matter-of-fact. "No. I'm not."

"What, you about to run for it? Try it, and I'll snap your legs like twigs! Look around! I still got plenty a' ammo to use against ya!" It wasn't mere gloating; aside from the symbols littering the floor, there were numerous marbles, quarters and poker chips scattered throughout the room. "I ain't lettin' ya out of here! Though, I do think it's pretty damn funny that you wanna bail on that bitch!"

Jason let out an irritated sigh. "We don't know each other, so you may not believe me when I say this: I never had any intention of running away!" While keeping his eyes on Redding, he motioned towards Aaliyah. "I may not know a whole lot about her. But she's trying to keep bastards like you from running wild, and that's good enough for me. Maybe the Berger you killed deserved it. I dunno. But anyone willing to do all this just to get back at one person can't be allowed to run free!"

Schizoid Man appeared, floating just above the ground. It hovered forward, stopping when it reached the limit of its range. Then it began floating around Jason, slowly moving in a circle until it came to rest where it had first materialized. When Jason spoke, his words carried a frigid weight. "Two meters. You were talking about 'spaces' earlier. This is MY 'space'. And if you invade it… I'll break you in half."

Redding's scornful look disappeared. "Is that so…" Without another word he thrust his cane at a nearby symbol. Touching it was one of the downed slot machines. The machine took off towards Jason.

Though it flew no slower than the ring did, Jason was ready for it. Schizoid Man let loose its fists with a cry of "ORAORAORAORAORA!" The blows shattered the machine like glass, and the remaining chunks pieces harmlessly flew past him. Before Redding could prepare another attack Schizoid Man rushed forward and thrust its arm down toward Redding. Unfortunately the gangster had regained some of his mobility, and he leapt out of the way when he saw the crimson Stand get near. Its fist hit nothing but the ground. Redding grinned when he realized that Schizoid Man had reached his maximum range and couldn't pursue him. "If that's your 'space'… I'll just hafta attack you from farther away!"

Redding ran to his right, wading among the sea of symbols that separated him from Jason. He stopped near the middle of the room, where he found a few of the objects he had used earlier, and fired them at Jason. Another set of punches was enough to deflect the tiny weapons. A couple of them flew past Jason and hit the wall hard enough to ricochet all the way back to Redding. They bounced harmlessly off of him. "See that power?!" Redding boasted. "The force of an out-of-control car, goin' at its maximum speed! All that pressure, directed solely at you!"

"Dammit!" Aaliyah shouted. "He's never gonna run out of ammo! Those things get pushed so hard that they end up right back on the symbols!"

"As long as my Stand touches the symbols instead of me…" Spotting a way to reach the gangster, Jason jumped on top of another felled slot machine. With a mighty kick Schizoid Man sent the machine sliding across the ground. The Stand followed the makeshift sled and threw several downward punches at Redding when it reached him, but all of them missed their mark when Redding backed away. "You ain't hittin' nothin' but the ground, boy! You're gonna regret tellin' me your Stand's range!" Redding gloated as Jason's ride stopped at the wall the gangster was standing at earlier.

Redding retreated again when Jason repeated his sledding stunt. Again Schizoid Man threw several punches, all of them aimed down at the top of Redding's head. Redding kept his eyes trained on Schizoid Man, and despite its speed he managed to stay out of its range by mere centimeters. "I'm gettin' real tired a' those slot machines!" Before Jason had completely passed him, Redding activated a symbol just as he glided over it. The slot machine was immediately redirected back the way it came. A split-second before the machine crashed against the wall Jason jumped off, landing on Aaliyah's side of the room and missing a symbol by the slimmest of margins.

"Jojo!" Aaliyah called out to the boy, trying vainly to stand all the while. "Just buy me a little more time! I'll grab some knives and warp over to him!"

A devilish grin wrapped around Redding's face. "Two meters, huh?" Redding sent a slot machine hurtling toward Aaliyah.

"Aaliyah!" Jason yelled as he dashed towards his ally. Schizoid Man stretched out to its max range and barely managed to divert the machine's path with a punch.

"Got you!" Redding shouted in triumph as he sent another volley at Jason. This time the boy had no way to defend himself; Schizoid Man couldn't reach him in time.

An overwhelming feeling of being crushed washed over Jason as he was violently propelled backward. Jason was smashed into the wall hard enough to crack it. He limply fell forward and hit the floor. Blood spurted from his mouth as he fought to breathe.

"Jojoooo!" Aaliyah screamed. Despite her best efforts she couldn't reach him; she only managed a couple of steps before succumbing to her wounds and falling once more.

Redding's deep laugh filled the room. "Ya see now?! What the meaning of 'helpless' is?! Now it's your turn, bitch!"

"N-not… y-yet…" Though every limb on his body felt like a mass of concrete, Jason forced himself back to his feet. His knees sluggishly propelled him up. His neck creaked upward to face Redding. "Just… a little… more…"

Though his eyes were hidden by sunglasses, Redding's body betrayed his astonishment. "How the hell… You want some more, dammit?! FINE! Take it all!" Redding activated every symbol he could reach. The room became a chaotic mess of flying objects. They flew in every direction, bounding off of everything they hit at lightning speed. Jason and Aaliyah's Stands desperately swatted at any foreign object that flew their way. They barely managed to stave off the assault.

When the hail of objects ended, Redding repeated the attack using many of the same objects that had rebounded back to him. Redding ecstatically raised his arms in the air as the pandemonium unfolded before him. "My Crosstown Traffic can do this as many times as it takes! You're as good as dead! You've got nowhere to hide! You fell right into my trap!"

Jason's legs gave out and he flopped onto the floor. Schizoid Man faded away as Jason's concentration broke. Marbles and chips and coins rained around him. Despite all of this, Jason smiled as he responded to his opponent.

"You're right… I fell into your trap. Just like you… fell into mine."

One of Schizoid Man's darts rocketed toward Redding. It embedded itself in his right side.

"AAAAAARGHHHH!" Redding wailed as he crashed to the floor. Though no bruises or blood appeared on his body, the pain he felt was very real. "W-what… did you do?! What the fuck… did you do to me?!"

Jason explained. "I linked our sense of touch. All the pain you feel now… is the pain you gave me. I knew I couldn't hit you with a dart head-on. So whenever I punched the ground, I laid a dart there. When you launched your objects, the darts got sent along with them. It was just a matter of time… before one of them hit you."

Aaliyah's eyes widened in understanding. "So that's why you told him Schizoid Man's range! He was too focused on where your Stand was to notice the darts!"

Jason let out a weak laugh. "Exactly. The effect won't last long… but it'll last long enough." A marble rolled towards Jason. He couldn't move to avoid it. He stared straight into Redding's eyes. "Have you ever been hit by a car?"

When Jason felt Crosstown Traffic's crushing pressure, Redding felt it too. The gangster cried out in agony until he lost consciousness. All of Crosstown Traffic's symbols vanished.

Aaliyah finally managed to rise to her feet. She shambled over to an unconscious Jason as fast as she could. "Jojo? Jojo, stay with me!" Though it taxed her, she made Station To Station carry Jason as she limped towards the exit. Before she could make it across the room, sirens began to blare. Flashing blue and red lights shined through the window. She could hear doors slamming shut in the distance.

"The cops?! Goddammit, give me a break!"

Aaliyah forced herself to move faster, and she and her Stand approached the window opposite of the police. Opening the window, she peered out and saw no one. Station To Station gently laid Jason on the floor. Extending its hand, it helped Aaliyah cross through the window, then picked Jason back up and followed Aaliyah outside.

Before long she reached the side of a nearby hotel. She sat up against the nearest brick wall of the building. Her Stand sat Jason up in a similar manner. She took out her phone and dialed Roger's number. As she waited for a reply, she took off her vest and began wiping away the blood from Jason's body.

After a few rings the call went through. "[It's Roger!]"

"It's me! We won, but Jojo's hurt pretty bad!"

"[We stopped them, Blanford's explaining the whole thing to them! We're on our way right now!]"

As soon as Aaliyah hung up she heard Jason start to cough. "Guess I… passed out…" he muttered.

Aaliyah smiled in relief. "You gotta be made of steel or somethin'! Just hang tight, we'll get you outta here in a minute!"

"Alright," Jason weakly replied. He smiled back at Aaliyah, then suddenly started to laugh. "Ha ha ha…ha ha..."

Aaliyah laughed with him.

* * *

Jason woke up from a long slumber in a cozy bed. A luminous full moon greeted him through the window. Much of his pain had ebbed, but he still felt weak and was incredibly sore from head to toe. He tried to stand but his body fought him too hard to accomplish the task. He settled for sitting up. The majority of his midsection was wrapped in tightly bound bandages. He took a deep breath, but ended up coughing much of it back out. With a sigh he attempted to loosen his bandages.

Enzo smacked his hand. "Honestly, Jojo, do you WANT to heal?"

Jason nearly jumped when he felt Enzo's slap. He had forgotten the young man was even there. "If you won't convalesce quietly, I could just drop you off at the hospital…" Enzo teased.

Jason nearly jumped again. "No no no, I'm not going to any hospital! Lying on a cold bed with no one around, totally unprotected from anyone who waltzes in…" Jason shivered. "No way! I've had enough of healthcare facilities for one lifetime!"

Enzo chuckled. "I suppose the fact that you're so… spirited is a good sign." Enzo sat down on the bed next to Jason. "I don't know why you like this place so much…"

"Well, you wouldn't let me stay at the hideout!"

"You said that Redding knew where we were. If one of his cohorts decided to enact revenge, they would be able to take it right to our doorstep. We couldn't take that chance."

Scratching his head, Jason started to recall that conversation. "Oh yeah."

"To be fair, you were passing in and out of consciousness on the way over here. It's only natural that you would…"

"Hold up!" Jason held up a hand, looking befuddled. "If I was passed out, how did you get me in here without people getting suspicious?"

Enzo smiled mysteriously.

Jason managed to cross his arms. "Fine, don't tell me…." The boy looked outside again. "Was I out for a whole day?"

"More or less."

"How's Aaliyah?"

Enzo stood back up and paced about. He took a coin from his pocket and began throwing it from hand to hand. "She's meeting with the Bergers right now. They're to discuss what happened yesterday, as well as the coalition she suggested. I insisted that she rested, and I offered to take her place, but… well, I'm certain you can guess how that went."

Jason's inquisitive look morphed into a grave expression. "What about Redding?"

"The police took him to the Heart's Road Hospital. Last I heard, he is still there. They're to discuss him too." Enzo stopped pacing and made a single loud clap. "Now then! I wanted to wait until you felt better, but… are you ready to hear my report?"

Jason nodded vigorously.

Enzo sat down in a wooden chair in front of the bed. Clasping his hands like he was about to tell a story, he detailed his findings. "I scarcely saw anyone walking about in Basinville. Everyone was holed up in their houses. Windows closed and doors slammed shut as I passed them by. Not the first time I've seen such a thing, but it never ceases to unnerve me. There were a few soldiers patrolling the area, but I managed to slip by them. Not nearly as many as I'd have thought, but…"

"What about Donna?"

Jason's anxious tone didn't escape Enzo's notice. "This is the first time you've mentioned a 'Donna'. Is that who you were hoping to find?"

"Yeah." Jason turned his head, looking sullen. He knew deep down that he wouldn't like Enzo's answer.

Enzo bit his lip. "I'm sorry, but… that clinic was completely empty."

Jason opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.

"I'm certain I had the right one. It was a white clinic near Pennyroyal and Cedar. I snuck in and took a look around, but it was utterly abandoned. Nary a soul in sight. I suppose they must have relocated everyone in it after you escaped."

Jason nodded in reluctant acceptance.

"If I may ask, Jojo… Is Donna your significant other?"

"No, nothing like that. She just reminds me of…" Jason trailed off and went quiet for a few seconds.

Enzo gave Jason a compassionate look. "I understand. I won't press the issue."

Setting aside his disappointment, Jason looked back at Enzo. "One more question. While you were there, did you see a Stand? I saw one near my old apartment. It was white and smooth, and had legs like a starfish."

Putting a hand to his chin, Enzo replied "No, I didn't see anything like that."

Jason sighed. "Alright. I appreciate you checking it out. Really."

"It's no problem," Enzo smiled.

The next couple of hours passed in what felt like a flash. Jason spent most of the time lying in bed. Though he attempted to rest like Enzo doggedly recommended, he was unable to put away the myriad thoughts whirling through his mind. He eventually gave up and began staring out the window to admire the unusually quiet night. Enzo fooled around on a laptop he brought with him. He attempted to send e-mails out to contacts outside of Bolum, but every one of them failed to send. Nearly every time it happened he would shake his head in disbelief.

The clock read 11:16 when Jason saw something move past the window.

It caught him off guard, so it took him a few moments to gather what he had just witnessed. A long object of some kind rushed from one end of the window to the other. It had flown fast enough that Jason couldn't ascertain exactly what it was. But he was certain he didn't imagine it.

"Enzo!" Jason hurriedly waved him over to the bed. When Enzo joined him, Jason pointed outside. "I just saw something. Not sure what, but it flew past the window." He turned to face the curly-haired young man with a troubled look in his eyes. "Are you sure you weren't followed when you brought me here?"

"I didn't see or hear anything amiss last night," Enzo answered as he peered out the window. Nothing but a few cars met his gaze. He turned back to Jason. "Are you certain it wasn't just a bird?"

"I'm sure." Jason tried to get up but couldn't quite make his body obey. "We need to leave."

"I admit that it's POSSIBLE that someone's spying on us, but I think you're just overtired, Jojo." Before Jason could argue otherwise, Enzo looked back out the window. "I'll take a look around outside, if it will appease you, but I think…"

A gloved hand pressed against the window. Attached to it was an officer. His face was obscured by a gas mask. His flapping brown wings kept him aloft.

Enzo nearly tripped over himself as he jumped away from the window. The officer waved to someone Enzo couldn't see. A moment later the officer had flown out of sight. "What in God's name was that?!"

"I saw those back in Basinville! There's more than one of em'! They're after me! We need to get outta here! If they come in here, we're sitting ducks!"

Enzo tried to stay calm, but his distress crept through. "If they can fly it will be even harder to evade them if we go outside!"

Jason's brow furrowed. "Then we have to fight them!"

"You're in NO condition to fight!"

Jason's inability to get up from the bed proved Enzo's claim. "We HAVE to!" Jason argued. "What else can we do?"

Enzo took a deep breath to calm his nerves. "We hide."

"Where? How do we…"

Jason stopped when Enzo darted behind him. Placing his hands on Jason's shoulders, Enzo spoke directly into Jason's ear. "Don't move. This is going to feel weird.

"「TESTAMENT」！"

Enzo's Stand appeared at Jason's right. It was a short robotic Stand, and most of its small white body was segmented by thin black lines. Its feet were half-ovals shaped vaguely like shoes, complete with black lines acting as shoelaces. The upper part of its torso was black, save for an elongated red diamond-shaped strip running from the bottom of its neck to the bottom of its chest. The design gave the impression that it was wearing a black vest with a red tie. Little flattened rectangles stuck to the sides of its face. Tiny black lines ran down its yellow eyes.

Testament grabbed ahold of Jason's neck. Its grip felt no more threatening than that of a baby's, but the sight of something grabbing his throat still made Jason uneasy. The Stand moved its arms downward and forced Jason to bend forward. Jason's breathing grew heavier as he bent over past his stomach, then past his knees. A moment later his head was touching his feet. Though this process didn't hurt in the slightest, it still felt incredibly uncomfortable.

"Shhh, relax," Enzo urged. "Don't move. This won't work if you move."

Testament continued contorting Jason's body. It folded his arms around him, pressing them extremely close to his back. Then it took hold of his legs and bent them upward, wrapping over the spot where his head once was. After that, Testament started to fold Jason's compressed body in on itself. It alternated, bending him vertically, then horizontally, and repeated until Jason was the size and thickness of a postcard.

All Jason could see was the color green. He endeavored not to freak out, but it proved very difficult for him when he realized that his face had been folded and pressed against the back of his shirt. He could feel his flattened body being picked up and moved. He felt himself being shoved into a small space. His breathing became more and more erratic until that was all he could hear, and he very nearly tried to force his way out until he heard Enzo's voice speak through his Stand.

"Whatever you do, don't move." Enzo's voice sounded like it was coming out of a speaker as Testament spoke. "I folded you and stuck you between the mattress of the bed and the frame. You can't see it, but I'm having Testament put myself next to you." Jason could feel something shaped like himself nudge against him. "If you move, you'll break the effect and return to normal. So just stay calm. If those guards have Stands, they'll be able to see Testament, so I'm dismissing it. Listen closely. I'll return us to normal when they leave."

Moments later Jason heard glass shattering. The flapping of multiple wings followed it, and soon after he heard loud footsteps. From the sounds of them, there were three guards. Loud crashes were heard as they tore the room apart.

"I'm sure I saw him," a muffled voice claimed. "The escapee has to be nearby."

More shuffling and destruction was heard.

A distorted voice sounded through a hand radio. "He's not outside," a second deeper muffled voice stated.

"Gotta be here somewhere," a third muffled voice with a slight accent said. "Check the halls, don't let em' try to slip out!"

The three guards muttered to one another for another minute or so, rearranging the hotel room all the while, until the guard with the accent addressed a fourth intruder. "Balthazar, sir!"

If Balthazar had just arrived he had glided in with such grace that Jason didn't hear him enter. His voice was unhindered by any mask, and it carried an eerie sense of serenity that clashed with what he spoke of. "I had hoped you would have found and exterminated the boy by now."

The first guard answered with "I know I saw him in this room, sir! And we barely gave him any time to run! But we can't find him!"

"I see. That's unfortunate," Balthazar said gently. Suddenly Jason felt the mattress of the bed being lifted and thrown away. "They don't appear to be here anymore. Was there anyone else here?"

"Yes," the first voice replied. "A young man wearing a bowler hat was with him."

"Hmm, I don't know of anyone like that," Balthazar responded. Footsteps were heard as the guards stopped their destruction. "Perhaps he's also a Stand User. Ah, well. Search the perimeter and the surrounding streets. If we don't find them there, we'll have to try again later."

"But sir," the deep-voiced guard pleaded, "if we don't catch him now, he might flee to another neighborhood!"

"I'm aware, but orders are orders. We can't maintain too much of a presence here. Now let's be off."

Jason heard several pairs of flapping wings, and then nothing. After a couple minutes of silence, Jason felt himself being removed from the bedframe. He felt his body being unfolded, which was mercifully a much faster process. Within seconds he was back to normal. Testament did the same for Enzo.

"Now do you believe me?" Though Jason knew it was petty, he couldn't think of anything else to say.

* * *

A single light shone throughout the Les Jeunes hideout. Aaliyah sat alone on a sofa in the living room. Her expression was one of pure focus, and her object of obsession was her cellphone. She stared endlessly at the small black device sitting next to her, stopping only to momentarily nurse her wounds every once in a while.

"The meeting was a bust," she spoke to no one. "'Just wait for the boss to call.' Can't tell if that's good or bad."

She winced in pain as her ribs starting to ache again. "Goddamn good-for-nothin'…" She shot up from the couch and started yelling at the walls. "I ain't about to let my crew set foot in here til I know it's safe!" Pointing at nothing, she raised her voice even more. "So if you bastards are out there, come and get me! I'll take ya all on!" When silence answered the challenge to her imaginary assailants, she sat back down wearing a look of self-satisfaction. "If no one's there, then cool! If they are, then they know I'm waitin' for em!"

A few minutes later Aaliyah's phone rang. She answered it before the first ring finished.

"It's Big Sis."

"[I apologize for the wait]." The boss of the Bergers was using a voice modifier of some sort; his voice was distorted and inhumanly deep. "[I wanted to personally thank you for subduing Redding. He's been a thorn in my side this past month. It seems I've underestimated him. Regarding your proposal, I completely agree. We must 'look to the hills'. Les Jeunes has my support.]"

Aaliyah grinned from ear to ear. "I'm happy to hear that. This is our best chance to keep our people safe. I'm glad you see it the same way."

"[Indeed. In addition, just today I've received some news about an individual. It hasn't been verified yet, but if it's true I'm certain he would interest you.]"

"Why do you say that?"

"[Because he interests the government as well. When I have more details I will contact you. That is all I have to say.]"

"Wait!" Aaliyah shouted. "What about Redding? He's being guarded at the hospital since it was a violent crime that put him there. If he recovers, then…"

"[He will no longer be an issue. Of that I assure you. I'll be in touch.]"

The boss hung up.

 **Redding never left the Heart's Road Hospital. On May 9** **th** **, 2000, at 1:36 AM he succumbed to cardiac arrest and died. His doctor and the nursing staff were baffled; in a matter of minutes he had gone from a stable condition to a code blue. All attempts to resuscitate him failed. Foul play is suspected, and an investigation is ongoing.**

* * *

 **NAME: Redding**

 **STAND: Crosstown Traffic**

 **HEART ATTACK - DEAD**

* * *

 **-TO-BE-CONTINUED-  
**


	7. Troubles And Trinkets (1)

**Troubles And Trinkets (1)**

* * *

The next three days passed without incident. Jason had immediately informed Aaliyah about his encounter with the winged guards, and she in turn alerted the Bergers. Though her immediate contact was very skeptical of her report she later received a call from a higher ranking member of the gang who took it far more seriously. 'We will keep a lookout for anything suspicious', he assured her. She also assigned Enzo and Blanford to patrol Montblanc at regular intervals, but they found nothing out of the ordinary.

In the meantime, Jason decided to rotate which hotels he stayed in every night. He thought long and devised a plan: he would check out and move in the middle of the night, but not before surveying the area to make sure he wasn't being watched. He would pick a hotel that wasn't too close to the last one, and then do a sweep of the building to sniff out anyone lying in wait to ambush him. Enzo had offered to let Jason stay at his apartment but he declined, fearing that he might inadvertently give away Enzo's address to the guards. The Les Jeunes hideout was also off-limits on Aaliyah's orders.

Despite his caution Jason still found it hard to relax. Every moment he spent recuperating felt like he was lying out in the open, waiting for a winged beast to swoop down and tear him apart. His nights were equally restless; placid dreams were often interrupted by the sight of avian claws and the sound of gunfire. By the time May 12th arrived Jason had enjoyed no more than 13 collective hours of sleep.

The lilting sounds of an acoustic guitar floated through the air as his phone rang. Jason answered it with a stern command. "Password."

"[Ugh,]" Aaliyah groaned. "[This really necessary? Can't you recognize voices over the phone?]"

"Password," Jason repeated.

"[Fine… 'Rhinoceros beetle'. Ya happy?]"

"What's up?"

"[I heard you're feelin' better, so I got a job for ya!]"

Jason felt relieved. Having something to do would keep his mind off of the assassination attempt. "What kind of job?"

"[Sid is gonna make rounds and check on clients. You're gonna go with him. It'll let ya get a feel for how we do things.]"

"You mean, like as a security measure?"

"[That and to collect protection money.]"

Hesitation crept into Jason's answer. "I… Look, do you have some other job I can do? I'm not… too comfortable with taking money from, you know, normal citizens…"

"[Oh, don't give me that crap! Have you ever heard of a bodyguard that works for free? They're just paying us for watchin' out for em'! We don't threaten em' or abuse em' or anything! Is that what you were thinking about? What kinda assholes do you take us for?!]"

"Alright, alright," Jason hurriedly replied, eager to keep Aaliyah from getting herself worked up.

A sigh was heard as Aaliyah calmed down. "[I've gotta pay a 'tribute' to the Bergers to keep them happy, so we need cash now more than ever. I'd be makin' rounds too, but I'm lookin' into something right now. If it pays off, we might get a lead on what the government's up to… and why those men were after you.]"

 _If she's still willing to keep me around, even knowing that people are out to kill me… I guess I sorta owe her one…_ "Alright," said Jason while fighting a yawn. "Where do I need to go?"

"[Sid'll meet you on the corner of Rivera and Houghton. Should be pretty close to you. He's headed there now. Lemme know if ya see anything weird. And when ya get back, get some damn sleep!]"

"Easy for you to say…" Jason muttered as the call ended. He shook his head in an attempt to fight off his fatigue. "It's gonna be a long day."

Jason gathered his belongings before heading downstairs to check out. He hadn't bothered unpacking, so it was as simple as grabbing his duffel bag and slinging it over his shoulder. The familiar sounds of speeding cars and prattling passers-by met him at the door. A warm afternoon wind brushed against him, one that nearly lulled him into shutting his eyes as he trekked down the sidewalk. Before he knew it he had arrived at the designated spot. Sid was already there.

Though it wasn't the first time Jason had met Sid, he knew next to nothing about the man. In truth, Jason found him a bit intimidating. Sid's appearance certainly didn't help matters. The 200-centimeter-tall man stood as still as stone, his powerful arms crossed in front of his thick chest. Suspenders ran over a simple white shirt that seemed to barely stretch across his broad shoulders, and they ended at a large pair of clay-colored carpenter's pants. His hair was as striking as his figure: thin horizontal rows of dark brown that were arranged so carefully they must have required a ruler. Every second row was cut much shorter than the odd-numbered rows. Jason was tempted to stare at the peculiar hairstyle, but Sid's chilly gaze suggested that would be a bad idea.

Sid's voice was as deep and resounding as Jason expected it to be. "Let's go." Pointing one of his massive fingers he singled out his truck, a simple but sturdy white pick-up. Jason slung his bag into the cargo area and hopped into the truck. The interior was in pristine condition; there wasn't a smudge, tear or stain to be seen. The engine purred when Sid shifted into first gear and set off for their first destination.

The roads of uptown Montblanc seemed to stretch on forever as silence blanketed the truck. Sid kept his eyes perpetually forward, never so much as glancing in Jason's direction. The boy started to wonder if Sid had forgotten he was there. He laboriously cleared his throat to see if it would garner Sid's attention, but the noise was quickly swallowed up by the silence. A couple minutes passed before Jason tried to strike up a conversation. "So… how long have you been working for Aaliyah?"

"Seven months," Sid curtly replied.

"Ah." Jason waited an awkward few seconds before continuing. "So that'd be November, right?"

"Yep."

"...You like being in Les Jeunes?" Jason immediately regretted asking a question that dumb-sounding.

"Yep."

"Um… do you have a Stand?"

Sid ignored the question and the truck sank back into reticence. Jason feared he was getting on Sid's nerves, so he contented himself with staring out the window. After a few agonizingly long minutes the truck pulled into the driveway of their first stop. Sid exited the truck, closing the driver side door with a resolute slam. Jason followed him up to the doorstep of a modest dull yellow house. Three swift knocks upon the plywood door summoned a middle-aged man with mop-like blond hair.

The man seemed to be expecting Sid and greeted him with a casual wave. "Hey. How you been?"

Sid shrugged. "Same as ever."

"You don't REALLY mean that, right?" the mop-haired man responded. "I heard all that shit about the chemicals! Friggin' troops roamin' around, closin' the city off… what the hell are they thinking? I'm scared to even go outside to go to work! It's scary, man!"

"It'll blow over soon," Sid said dryly.

 _I guess it WOULD be best not to alarm their clients,_ Jason thought. _Especially when we know that the stuff about the chemicals is a cover story._

The mop-haired man relaxed a bit. "I hope so. I don't see how you stay so calm about it… Anyway, you need this month's payment, right? Guess it IS the second Friday. Gimme a sec." The man disappeared into his house, but quickly reappeared with a wad of dollar bills in hand. He relinquished the money to Sid.

"Let me know if you have any problems," Sid said while stuffing the money into one of his oversized pockets.

"Well, there was one thing," the mop-haired man replied.

Sid's expressionless face quickly gave way to solemnity. "Someone giving you trouble?"

The mop-haired man waved his hand about. "No no, nothin' like that." He pointed past Sid and Jason. The two followed his hand to find a rustic-looking red car with its hood up. "My car's been actin' weird! It squeals on the road, and the engine's been overheating! Can't figure out why! You're good with cars, right? Think you can take a look at it?"

Jason found the question absurd enough that he wondered if the mop-haired man was joking. _They're gang members, not car mechanics! Where does this guy get off?_ Sid gave the man a sideways glance, one that lasted long enough to worry Jason. Before he could open his mouth, Sid turned and started toward the car. Grabbing the frame, Sid peered inside and examined the car's innards. "Need your tools," Sid gruffly stated.

The mop-haired man fetched a metallic tool box. Sid dug through it until he found a small socket wrench. A few twists later Sid removed the battery and placed it on the ground. After another few glances at the engine compartment, Sid reached for some more tools and began to tinker further with the car. Jason didn't know that much about automotive work and couldn't help but inch closer to the work area to see what Sid was doing.

Before long Sid had removed the entire air housing unit. After he loosened a few screws near the crankshaft Sid pulled out a long black rubbery belt. Holding it up to his face with grease-stained hands, Sid examined the belt closely. "You ever get your drive belt replaced?" The mop-haired man shook his head. "You need to. It's damaged." Sure enough, one of the belt's many ridges had a crack in it.

Once Sid replaced everything he had removed he and Jason got back in the truck and left for the next house. Though he only halfway expected an answer, Jason couldn't help but ask "Why did you do all that for him?"

Sid cracked the slightest of smiles. "Keeps him happy, so why not."

* * *

It was 3:32 when Sid received a call.

"[You said to call if anything came up,]" an elderly male voice stated. "[Well, somebody left me a little note on the door sayin' that 'by the end of the day I'll be sorry'. Of course, I'm not worried about some punk-ass kid but Gabriel's been fretting about it all day. You think you can swing by and look around?]"

"Of course," Sid answered. "Headed your way."

The moment Sid put his phone away he wildly spun the steering wheel to the left. The truck nearly spun out as it crossed the median and finished its u-turn. Even with his seatbelt on Jason was jerked to and fro. He shot Sid a dirty look while rubbing his neck. "Geez, man! Are you trying to jerk my head out of its socket?!"

"No." Sid's simple answer was as unemphatic as everything else he'd said so far.

Once his equilibrium returned Jason stared outside to get a bead on where they were headed. Much of the opposing traffic disappeared as they traveled further uptown. Residential areas quickly replaced the gaudy tourist traps of downtown; blocks of humble brick and mortar homes lined the narrow roads.

Jason sighed. "I give. Where are we going?"

"An antique shop. You'll see it."

"That guy on the phone sounded pretty old. Does that mean even the elderly around here pay protection money to gangs?"

"Yep."

Jason gave Sid an inquisitive stare as they drove through a tunnel. "Why wouldn't they call the police if someone's threatening them?"

Sid quietly scoffed. "The cops around here pick their fights carefully. Getting protection from a gang'll keep you safer than relying on the police around here."

The pick-up truck turned onto a peaceful cul-de-sac called Scarpe Street. Children on the corner crowded around a fire hydrant they had tampered with, gleefully dancing beneath the streams of water erupting from it. The sight reminded Jason of the ever-increasing heat, and that it would only get worse as summer approached. At the same time, he found it a bit comforting to see a display of innocent joy in the midst of Bolum's misfortune. He was focused enough on the children that he barely noticed the truck coming to a stop.

A two-story building made of time-worn stone stretched out across the end of the road. Its build and girth made it stand out from the houses around it, and though it certainly looked durable the discolored cracks creeping along its frame betrayed its age. The sign running along the building's peak read 'Reeve's Antiques'. Large single-pane windows on the first floor displayed an assemblage of various knickknacks.

The door opened and out came a bald man in his seventies. Considering his age, he was in surprisingly good shape; his face was mostly unmarred by wrinkles and his musculature suggested a strict workout regimen. Though tall and broad, the old man still had to look up at Sid when he walked over to shake his hand. "Thanks for comin' on such short notice."

Sid took the old man's hand and gave it a couple of firm shakes. "It's no problem." Sid motioned to Jason, then to the old man. "He's Jojo. That's Reeve."

Reeve dug into his jean pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. "Here's that note," he remarked while handing it to Sid. Jason leaned in to read it alongside Sid. It was written in pencil by someone with scratchy handwriting.

' _You're gonna pay for laughing at me! By the end of the day you'll be sorry! I swear it!_ '

"One of my customers found it slid under the door about an hour ago," Reeve explained. "I didn't think much of it, but Gabriel kept bugging me about it. She even wanted me to close up shop, if you can believe it!"

Jason cleared his throat before speaking up. "That might not be a bad idea."

Reeve seemed personally offended at the suggestion. "Boy, this shop hasn't closed early since Christmas! If my arms aren't broke, then my ass is working!" The pride in Reeve's statement was easy to hear, so Jason dropped the subject.

"Anything unusual happen lately?"

Reeve gave a short silent laugh. "Yeah, some scrawny punk came in here yesterday. It was around closing time, and he wandered in and starting examining everything. He was wearing some goofy-ass outfit, so I badgered him about it. Maybe that pissed him off, I dunno, because not long after that I found him trying to sneak around upstairs in the living quarters! I gave him a good wallop! Told him 'I used to beat up pissants like you for a living'! By the time I was done with him he was about ready to cry! While he was stumbling out the front door, he pointed at me and said 'These wounds prove that you don't respect me! I'm not gonna let you walk all over me!' Then I chased him out and he ran off. Haven't seen him since."

"He might come back with friends and try to get revenge on you," Jason pointed out.

"Yeah, that's what my wife was thinking. I ain't too worried about it, but I figured I'd have you come and keep an eye on the place so Gabriel would calm down."

With that Reeve waved the two inside. The wooden interior of the shop was divided into several rooms littered with various trinkets and baubles, all of which were neatly ordered on tables and dressers. The display nearest the front door touted a variety of ceramic pots and bowls, most of which had tiny price labels drooping from their edges. The wall behind it was all but covered in paintings that ranged from still-life depictions of mundane objects to abstract arrangements of multicolored shapes and strokes. Across from the paintings stood a large pearl white lampstand with dainty curved legs and a swirling trim finish. Atop it a pair of similarly designed lamps guarded an assortment of jewelry. Running along the floor was a small maze of chairs that were made of everything from woven straw to luxurious silken material. A large oaken dresser on the far wall carried a selection of empty cans, each of which once housed a long-discontinued food. Several other displays throughout the exhibition rooms carried all manner of other antique items, from rusty tools to feathered masks to ancient bicycle parts.

With a contented grin Reeve gestured toward the massive collection. "There's more history in this room than there is in that French museum! This business has been in my family for the past five generations, and we've collected stuff from all over the globe! You won't find a better assortment of antiques in all of Bolum!"

Jason didn't doubt Reeve's boasts; he had never seen so many ancient items in one place before. He joined the shop's handful of customers and perused its wares. His eyes wandered from collections of clay spoons to a large elliptical mirror that looked like it came straight out of a fairy tale. While smirking at the distorted reflection that stared back at him he spotted an eclectic assortment of small figurines behind him. Among the winged cherubs, dancing women and religious figures was an odd one that caught Jason's eye. It was a small bronze statue of a panther that was partially hidden behind a rectangular glass case. The case resembled the kind that one would find on a grandfather clock, and the panther appeared to be climbing on top of it from the back with its head and paws wrapped over the top. There was something oddly alluring about it, but Jason moved on after failing to find a price tag.

Seeing Sid and Reeve move toward the back of the store, Jason abandoned his window shopping to join them. "…and the damn bathroom's been leaking upstairs," Reeve moaned while pointing up at the wooden floor above his head. "I'm sure she'll blame me for that too…"

Sid crossed his arms and paid little attention to the sea of mementos around him. "You said he went upstairs?"

"Yeah," Reeve answered. "I looked around earlier but didn't find anything. You wanna take a look?"

Sid waved Jason on and the three men climbed a creaky set of wooden stairs up to the second floor. They opened the door to end up in a fairly normal, if somewhat simplistic living room. On the recliner in the corner was an elderly woman with frizzy white hair and prominent worry lines. Grunting softly as she raised herself up, the woman approached Sid like he was an old friend. "Oh, I'm glad you came, Sid!" She clasped one of his large hands and gave it a soft squeeze. "You know that Reeve wanted to ignore the whole thing and not call you? I kept telling him 'don't be stubborn, remember what happened to that family on Upton?' But nooo…" She gave Reeve a bitter look. "Reeve just has to take care of it all by himself!"

Reeve pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "You're overthinking this, Gabriel! That little punk from yesterday's just trying to scare us! But I made the call like you wanted! So let's start looking!" He walked over to the door on the other side of the living room while muttering "That woman, I swear…", and the other three followed him into the kitchen.

They searched through the spacious kitchen and found nothing out of the ordinary. They checked under the dinner table, in every cupboard and cabinet, and Jason even got Gabriel to turn off the oven so he could check inside. There were no bombs, traps or notes of any kind.

Next they went from the kitchen into the couple's bedroom. Aside from the usual amenities there was a large safe pushed up against the wall. In addition, an assortment of antiques had been placed at the corners of the room, presumably to be looked over and priced before preparing them for the sales floor. Jason spotted another copy of the bronze panther statue among the clutter. Water leaked steadily from underneath a door on the right. "He STILL hasn't fixed it," Gabriel whispered to the boy.

The door led to a fairly large bathroom. Nearly every inch of the wooden floor was covered in a thin layer of water. It was easy to see why; the sink was overflowing with water as it steadily leaked from the spout, seemingly ignoring the drain altogether. Sid and Reeve both examined the malfunctioning spout, but couldn't figure out exactly what the problem was. "There has to be something backing up the pipe," Sid muttered. Aside from the overflowing faucet nothing odd could be found within. After the group reconvened in the bedroom Reeve smirked "See, Gabriel? Once again, you were worried over nothing!"

Gabriel stomped over to her husband. "Don't take that haughty tone with me! How do you know that boy won't come back with a bunch of thugs later tonight? Heck, he could be downstairs right now for all we know!"

"After the ass-whooping I gave him that kid ain't comin' back in here! And I'd recognize him in a heartbeat even if he did!"

"And what if five of them decide to kick down the door in the middle of the night, Reeve?!"

Even Sid looked like he was getting annoyed by the couple's bickering. "Look," the 200-centimeter man said, "we'll take a look around on the first floor, then we'll search outside. If we don't find anything, we'll discuss what to do after that." Reeve and Gabriel both seemed to agree with that plan. Sid and Jason hurried back downstairs before they could start arguing again.

While combing over the seemingly infinite supply of knickknacks, Jason turned to Sid. "So how long are we gonna stay here?"

"Til' they're satisfied," Sid replied while carefully digging through a barrel full of hats.

Jason chuckled. "Isn't Aaliyah gonna get ticked off if we spend the day here instead of collecting payments?"

"She'll get over it," Sid said nonchalantly.

Before long 5:00 had come. Reeve shooed away the last couple of stragglers and locked the front door. Prior to returning upstairs he stopped to shake hands with Jason and Sid. "Like I said, thanks for coming by. We're getting your payment ready, so come get it when you're done. Then MAYBE I can convince Gabriel that everything's fine. I don't wanna keep you here all night."

Jason's tired eyes started to burn as he made his way to the back of the shop. As he stopped to rub them his gaze fell upon the ceiling. It was wooden, which coincided with the floors he had seen upstairs, but he found it odd that there were several cracks running along it.

"Sid," Jason called out. "Right above here is the bathroom, right?"

"Yeah," Sid answered without ceasing his search.

Jason put a hand to his chin. "If the bathroom is leaking so bad, shouldn't the water be dripping down to the first floor through the cracks?"

"Yeah."

"Well… it's not. There's not a single drop coming from upstairs."

After a quick glance at the spot Jason referred to, Sid shrugged and went back to his business. "Maybe there's another layer between the floors that's keeping the water from falling through."

"This is a really old building. It doesn't look like it's been fixed up much. And those two probably spent most of their money gathering these antiques. If it was a normal leak, I'd be soaking wet right about now. There's something weird going on."

At this point Jason had captured Sid's full attention. "You think it's a Stand?" Sid scoffed when Jason nodded in the affirmative. "You're overthinking this."

Sid's casual dismissal incensed Jason. "The last time someone told me that, I nearly got killed!"

"That was different. Someone was after you. Who would know that you're here?"

"That's not my point! The guy trying to get revenge on Reeve might be a Stand User!"

"All this from a leaking faucet? In all the time I've spent checking up on clients, fighting off other gangs, looking out for officials… I haven't met one Stand User just roaming the streets."

"It's not nearly as impossible as you think it is." Seeing Sid's unconvinced expression, Jason cut him off before he could retort. "Redding managed to stay hidden for over two months. There are over 40,000 people in Montblanc, right? How many more of them could be in hiding?"

Sid's heavy stare slowly turned into a contemplative one. He silently started up the stairs. Jason followed close behind.

When they arrived in the bedroom Reeve and Gabriel stood at the opened safe, counting out a number of dollar bills. "Oh, there you are," the old woman said. "Just a moment, almost got your payment ready." When she turned to hand the money over to Sid, she stared at her hands and gasped. They were empty.

"Wha… I just had your money in my hand! It was right here! I didn't drop it, I'm sure of it!"

Jason immediately summoned Schizoid Man when he spotted something attached to the front of Gabriel's leg. It was the panther statue. Inside of its glass case was a miniature wad of money.

The statue vanished.

* * *

Two young men waited outside of Reeve's Antiques. Pressed hard against the stone building's right wall, they were impossible to spot from within the shop.

The smaller of the two sat cross-legged on the ground. Most of his pale gaunt body was covered by a peculiar looking tracksuit that sported a black and white checkerboard pattern. Both a set of long bangs and a drawn hood concealed most of his blue eyes, as well as the anxious look within them. "I k-knew it," his tenor voice quivered. "Th-they can see my Stand!" He pounded his small fist against the ground. "Dammit! Why did this have to happen?!" The young man seemed close to tears as he clutched the sides of his head in panic. "Just when I finally try to get my respect, I get spotted! Why now, of all times?!"

The other man silently watched his sniveling partner. His coifed brown hair spiraled about, exposing most of his forehead. His lime green polo shirt was matched with a similarly colored tie. At length he approached the younger man, who was too deep in self-pity to notice his movements. He raised his hand in the air.

"If I can't beat them, I'll never… AGH!"

A mighty slap made him collide with the ground. The young man rubbed his stinging face. "Why'd you hit me?! We're supposed to be…"

The man with coifed hair grabbed the younger one by the scruff of his tracksuit and pulled him close. "You think anybody would respect a crybaby?!" His snarling rage quickly dried the younger man's tears. "Quit disgracing yourself! One guy sees your Stand and you lose your 'will'?"

"B-b-but Vaughn…" the younger man stammered fearfully. "They have to be Stand Users! I've n-never fought other Stand Users before! What do I do?"

Vaughn released the younger man. "You keep your 'will'! I told you earlier: all you need to accomplish your goals is 'will'! If you have enough 'will', you can do anything you want!"

Kneeling down, Vaughn met the younger man at eye level. His bold proclamations became words of encouragement. "Listen, Ellas. When our ancestors claimed dominion over the land, they didn't do it with 'strength'! Humans are far weaker and slower than the animals, so what did they use to overcome them? It was 'will'! Little by little over the generations, humans imposed their 'will' upon nature. They cleared the forests and made their civilization by refusing to obey nature's rules! They subdued the animals and rose higher and higher on the food chain until they stood at the top! This power that you and I have… it's proof that our 'will' is greater than anyone else's! It gives us free reign to trample the lesser under our feet! The only thing you have to do is believe in it and follow through! That's how you'll get your respect!"

Ellas stared back with a mixture of awe and inspiration in his eyes. He answered with renewed determination. "Alright, I'll do it! I won't let people step on me anymore!" When he glanced up at the second floor, a twinge of fear entered his voice. "Y-you'll still help me, right?"

Vaughn turned away from Ellas as he stood back up. "As long as I get my fifty percent…" he muttered to himself. His enthusiasm returned when he faced his partner. "You've got nothing to worry about!" He pointed up at the window above them. "My Stand's ability… I've already set it in motion!"

* * *

Jason and Sid had little time to ponder what they had just seen; the bathroom door was torn off its hinges by a powerful torrent of water. It poured into the bedroom with all the force of a raging flood, knocking everyone present off of their feet as it pounded them. The deluge continued as water ceaselessly flowed into the room, filling it up at an alarming rate. By the time Reeve and Gabriel found their voices and cried out the water had already reached their waists.

"Schizoid Man!" Jason's Stand smashed the nearest window with a punch. "Once I give the water somewhere else to flow to, we can drain it out!" To his dismay, the water completely ignored it. Even as the flood climbed above the borders of the window, not a single drop fell through it. As the water rapidly approached his neck Jason noticed that the bedroom door was open. The kitchen floor was utterly dry. "None of the water is flowing out of the room! It's only moving within a specific space!"

Jason was forced to hold his breath when the flood reached the ceiling and encased the bedroom in a veritable cube of water. Fortunately, Sid and the store's proprietors had done the same. Though Reeve and Gabriel seemed to be wading well enough, Sid's massive body worked against him as he struggled to keep from sinking. Jason swam to the floundering Sid and Schizoid Man grabbed his hand. Just as he was about to make for the kitchen with Sid in tow he saw Reeve and Gabriel get suddenly yanked out of the water.

Two thin purple arms with long spindly fingers had reached in and grabbed the old couple. When it pulled them forward a wave of water was pulled with them. Their confused screams quickly faded away as the wave carried them across the floor, down the stairs and out of sight.

The Stand that belonged to the two arms entered the cube of water, gently bobbing up and down as it blocked the exit. Nearly all of its humanoid body was dark purple, save for a set of octagonal blue eyes. Small tubes ran from each cheek into a protuberance that rested where its mouth should have been, forming what looked like a diver's oxygen mask. Hardened surfaces on its shoulders, forearms and forelegs gave the impression that it wore some sort of organic armor.

Schizoid Man threw a punch at the enemy Stand, but it swiftly dodged the attack and answered with a swing that nailed Jason in the gut. He fought not to open his mouth as he doubled over, but the attack wrenched a bit of precious air out of his lungs. Schizoid Man immediately launched a kick at the purple Stand's head, but it just as quickly blocked. Its next attack, an uppercut aimed for Jason's chin, forced his mouth open and sent water splashing down his throat.

Jason threw his hands over his mouth, desperately trying to conserve what oxygen he had left. He could feel the tension in his chest rising more and more as he fought his desire to breathe. He attempted to float away from the Stand, but it had no intention of letting him go. His body's screams for air grew louder as the enemy Stand grabbed his hands and forced them away from his mouth. Long purple fingers constricted around his neck. His throat burned like a wildfire as his last vestiges of air were choked out of him. He could no longer fight back; he had lost the concentration necessary to command Schizoid Man. Darkness enveloped the room as the world started to fade away.

Within his dimming vision Jason saw the enemy Stand being launched backwards. It flew out of the bedroom, straight through the kitchen and into the living room. He felt a gentler force push him out of the cube of water and onto the dry kitchen floor. His vision slowly faded back in as he coughed and hacked, his lungs gleefully drawing in fresh air. When Jason looked behind him he saw Sid and his Stand.

Its coarse, granite-colored body was every bit as massive as Sid's, though its exaggerated proportions made it appear even larger. Small sunken eyes peered out of a square-shaped head, one that emulated Sid's hairstyle by way of ridges of alternating length. A thin rocky surface ran between its eyes and protruded slightly outward, giving it a long flattened nose. At first sight it had only a right arm, but moments later a series of floating granite-textured blocks made their way toward its left shoulder. The blocks pressed against one another until they formed a powerful arm ending in a hand with blocky fingers. The cracks between each block disappeared as they connected the arm to the shoulder.

Sid took a couple of deep breaths as he stood up. "「DIVISION BELL」 isn't very fast… I was waiting til' it got close." He stared into the living room as he helped Jason to his feet. "I don't see it anywhere…"

Just as Jason's strength returned he saw the enemy Stand's limbs appear through the kitchen wall. Its body materialized bit by bit as it phased through the wall. It spoke with Vaughn's confident voice. "Not bad, getting out of my 'water-shape' like that…"

"Who are you?!" Jason demanded.

The enemy stand pointed a thumb at itself. "The man who's gonna claim this store! All these artifacts will fetch a hefty price, don't you think?" The Stand spread its arms out. "I practically feel like I'm raiding an ancient Egyptian tomb! I'll kill that old couple and seize all they own! Unless… you two nobodies think you can suppress me."

Jason took a step forward and glowered at the enemy Stand. "So for nothing more than money, you'd kill innocent people?"

"Why not? The only people that matter in the world are the 'willful'! If I can impose my will on someone, then that proves that they're lesser than me! And the lesser don't deserve anything if they can't stop someone from taking it away!"

"I see," Jason said. Schizoid Man appeared in front of him. "Then how much 'lesser' than me will you be once I beat the shit out of you?"

Schizoid Man lunged forward. As its fist flew toward, the enemy Stand put its hands in front of its shoulders. Both hands faced each other and made the same gesture; every finger except the pinky bent to form a four-point 'claw'. A stream of water left the bedroom and glided through the air at an incredible speed. It collected in the space between the Stand's hands, forming a rectangle of water that remained floating in the air. The points where its fingers had touched served as the borders.

Schizoid Man's punch stopped when it hit the 'water-shape'. "It's like jelly!" Jason exclaimed. The enemy Stand placed a hand on the floating water. Jason quickly made Schizoid Man retract its fist. Clenching its hand, the enemy Stand grabbed the 'water-shape' and pulled it to the side, manipulating it as though it were a piece of cloth.

A nefarious chuckle came from the Stand. "This is the power of my 「TEXAS FLOOD」! " With a snap of Texas Flood's fingers, the floating water lost its shape and fell to the floor. "The very element of water itself bends to my will! Whatever space I command it to fill, it will always obey me and flow to that location!" Texas Flood hovered away from Jason and Sid, floating into the living room. It traced a rectangle along the door frame between the two rooms. "Any water nearby will follow my orders! Including… the water I sent downstairs!"

A loud rumble sounded up the stairs, then a wave forced its way into the living room. It began filling the gap between the kitchen and living room, flowing upward and filing into the space between the door frame.

Jason and Sid chased after Texas Flood. To their surprise, they had no trouble moving through the premature water-shape; it was as simple as stepping through a fountain. Water continued to flow up the stars and gather in the door frame, harmlessly brushing past the two as it did so. By the time they noticed what was being carried along with the current, it was already upon them.

Multiple copies of the panther statue floated on the surface of the wave. Jason and Sid were unable to avoid touching them as the water slid past them. The statues remained stuck to their legs. Schizoid Man and Division Bell both attempted to pull the statues off, but to no avail.

"That won't work," Ellas' voice sounded from one of the statues. "Once they're on you, you can't take them off!"

Texas Flood laughed again as it slowly hovered away from the duo. "You two have the same power as me. If you wanna prove that you have the same will, then follow me down these stairs! Of course, you could just jump out the window and make a run for it… but then what would happen to that old couple, I wonder?" Texas Flood disappeared through the door.

"Dammit," Jason swore. "There must be two Stand Users!" He looked down at his legs. Seven statues clung to them in various different spots. His hand passed through them when he tried to touch them. "This has to be some kind of trap."

Sid sprinted toward the door, slinging it open and heading through it. The moment he passed through the door his right hand disappeared. It took a couple of steps before he realized it; he felt no pain and there was no wound to be found. His hand had been bloodlessly removed at the wrist.

"Y-your hand!" Jason started toward Sid but stopped short of the door. "It has to be the statues! The statues took your hand!"

"Yeah," Sid agreed, looking down at his feet. "One of the statues is gone."

"It's just like when it stole the old woman's money! I don't know how, but it took your hand away when you started down the stairs!"

Sid looked at Division Bell and found that its right hand was missing as well. "Makes sense. My Stand IS me," Sid stated in an unusually calm tone. Without another word he started down the stairs again.

"Are you crazy?! They're trying to lure us down there! You're walking right into a trap!" Jason nervously eyed the door frame that separated him from Sid. He gradually extended his hand toward the stairs, but quickly pulled it back before it crossed through the frame. "Just stay there! We have to figure this out! If I go on the stairs, I'll lose something too! I've gotta find another way down!"

"Jojo!" Hearing Sid raise his voice surprised Jason enough to demand his attention. "Sometimes it pays to be cautious. Your caution proved that there was a Stand at work here. But sometimes you have to throw away your caution in order to 'move forward'! All these statues are is a way to keep us from 'moving forward'! I came here to keep Reeve and Gabriel safe, and anything that will stop me from doing that I'll gladly throw away!"

Sid continued down the stairs. Just before he reached the door to the showroom he heard Jason follow after him. The boy was also missing his right hand. He paid it little mind.

"Every minute I spend worrying is a minute those two are alone with that bastard! Let's go!"

* * *

 **-TO-BE-CONTINUED-**


	8. Troubles And Trinkets (2)

**Troubles And Trinkets (2)**

* * *

 **STAND: Texas Flood**

 **USER: Vaughn (22 years old)**

 **POWER: C SPEED: B RANGE: B**

 **STAYING: D PRECISION: C LEARNING: E**

 **ABILITY: Creates 'water-shapes', in which nearby**

 **water will accumulate until the shape is filled.**

 **Water-shapes can be freely manipulated once formed.**

* * *

Jason stared down at himself as he and Sid burst through the door at the bottom of the stairwell. When his feet touched the wooden floor of the showroom he lost sight of his left shoulder. Strangely, his left arm was still right there at his side. When he turned his head to see his shoulder intact he realized what had actually happened: his left eye had been taken. He fought the urge to examine the 'wound', but his remaining left hand found its way up to his face. Only an empty socket marked the spot where his left eye once was.

"Haha!" One of the panther statues on Jason's leg let out a patronizing laugh. Schizoid Man spotted the statue in question on the back of Jason's left knee. Within its glass case was Jason's eye. Schizoid Man punched the statue a few times with its remaining hand. It felt like punching a tiny steel wall. "Doesn't hurt!" was the statue's mocking reply as it faded away.

Sid nearly dropped to the ground when his left foot was stolen from him. Jason could practically feel the impact of Sid's hands grabbing the floor to stop his fall. Without so much as a gesture from Sid, cracks began to form across Division Bell's left side. Small square chunks of its granite body separated themselves from the rest of the Stand, which stayed rigidly suspended in the air as though they belonged there. Sid seemed unharmed by his Stand disassembling itself as he slowly rose back up. As Sid lifted his left leg into the air, the floating blocks gradually congregated around it and pressed up against one another to form a sort of stony boot. Sid brought his makeshift prosthetic down with a resounding thud.

"Heh heh, that's an interesting work-around." Vaughn's voice demanded the pair's attention. The enemy Stand stood at the open door to the next room, its soulless octagonal eyes boring into its opponents. "The fact that you're both standing here in front of me means that you've got more 'will' than I thought." Texas Flood held up a long bony finger. "The first time you lost a limb was because of a thoughtless action. You couldn't possibly have known that my partner's Stand would affect you like that. But since you went through the staircase and met me here, that means you willingly cast off the second limb. I can appreciate that kind of determination."

"Does that mean you'll shut up and leave us alone?" Jason punctuated his acerbic response with a glare.

"It actually makes me wanna fight you more!" Extending its arm, Texas Flood placed a finger in the air, poking the upper right corner of the room. "I took the liberty of setting up a water-shape while you were upstairs. I just finished it. Which meaaaans…?"

Sounds of cascading water came from upstairs, growing louder every second. "He's gonna try to drown us again! Cover me!" Jason yelled as he charged Texas Flood. Shouting its familiar yell, Schizoid Man sent a punch towards the enemy Stand. Texas Flood dodged to the left and avoided the assault by a slim margin. "Seems like the speed of our Stands is roughly equal," Texas Flood pointed out smugly.

Before Jason could go back on the offensive he spotted Reeve and Gabriel in the next room. They lay pinned under an overturned shelf. Though they noticed Jason and silently pleaded to him with fear-stricken eyes, neither of them opened their mouths to scream. Jason quickly figured out why: a rectangle of water was slowly accumulating around them.

Texas Flood laughed as it hovered just out of range. "So what will you do? Rush in to save them like a knight in shining armor and lose another limb? Or stay in here and drown?"

"And how are you going to drown us?" Sid asked.

Division Bell had been reduced to its head and a single shoulder. The rest of its body had been repurposed into a stone wall that covered the entrance to the stairway. Only the barest trickle of the incoming flood managed to seep through the cracks of the barricade. Even that water ceased to flow as the separate blocks congealed into a solid barrier.

"Wha-"

Schizoid Man interrupted Texas Flood's disbelief with a punch to the head that knocked it into the corner of the room. Jason followed in hot pursuit. _It's fast, but if I can take it out now…_

"Damn! Gotta buy a little time…" Texas Flood snapped its fingers, then quickly traced a large circle in front of it. Water coating the floor around Reeve and Gabriel swept into the bordering room, filling the circle moments before Schizoid Man's next punch could reach its intended target. Its fist became stuck within the water-shape as though it were made of gelatin.

"I can freely alter the properties of the water I 'capture'! Its form and density are as malleable to me as a plastic straw!" Grabbing onto the water-shape with a skinny hand Texas Flood bent it forward, wrapping it around Schizoid Man's arm. "Now I can…"

Texas Flood suddenly ducked. A small mass of rock flew over the enemy Stand's head. When it hit the wall it didn't stop; it left a hole when it landed in the bordering room. "That was close," the Stand muttered. "That big guy's Stand is strong… it knocked me out of the bedroom pretty easily… can't let it hit me again…"

While Schizoid Man yanked its arm out of the water-shape, Jason glanced over his shoulder to see a frustrated Sid. Only Division Bell's head remained. _Missed,_ Sid thought to himself. _Can't send the head, and I can't move the shoulder if I can't see it… I'm out of ammo._

Sudden sounds of flooding filled the air. Thick waves of water erupted from the ceiling, tearing holes in its flimsy wooden frame as they emptied into the showroom. The waves rapidly covered the floor and began to rise, carrying with them any antiques they managed to ensnare. As the water rose around him Jason turned to the stairway. Sid's wall still stood firm. "We blocked the water! How is it still getting in?!"

Texas Flood raised its arms in the air, as if praising the heavens. "Utter subjugation! When I form a water-shape it will ALWAYS be filled, no matter what! Even though you stopped the water from the bedroom, I simply pulled it from the pipeline! Water that's more 'open' to the air will be chosen first, but if that isn't available then my ability will pull water from anywhere it needs to!"

Trying to catch Texas Flood off guard, Schizoid Man shot a dart at the enemy Stand. Unfortunately, a quick hand gesture created a cube of water that absorbed the dart and left it suspended it in mid-air. The rising tides overtook it within seconds. Goosebumps ran down Jason's back as the cold water reached his shoulders. He did his best to stay afloat, but the ceiling swiftly closed in as the tide carried him upward. To his left he saw Sid, whose height just barely kept his head above water. Beneath the clear waves he could see Texas Flood, its feet firmly rooted to the ground. It craned its neck to glance from Jason to Sid and back again, as though it was trying to decide who to attack first.

"Jojo!" Sid coughed as water began to flow down his throat. "Get into the other room!"

"What about you?" Jason yelled back.

"Just get to Reeve and Gabriel, go!"

Sid dissolved the wall he had created with his Stand, and the water it was holding back flowed into the room. Jason and Sid both took a deep breath just before the water-shape was completely filled.

Reluctantly, Jason followed Sid's orders and swam to the doorway. The edge of the water separated him from the next room like a veritable wall. Before he could force himself through, Jason felt bony fingers wrap around his ankle. He heard Vaughn's voice hiss at him from below. "You think I'll just let you waltz out of my water-shape?" As Texas Flood prepared to pull Jason down into the depths a stronger force pulled it away. Jason glanced back to see a massive stony hand. Comprised of most of Division Bell's body, it slowly reeled Texas Flood away from Jason, imprisoning it between large blocky fingers. Sid gestured with his head for Jason to leave. He did so.

Sid glared at Texas Flood as Division Bell grasped it tight. The hand barely budged as Texas Flood struggled to free itself. Division Bell tightened its grip, and Vaughn yelled in pain. The enemy Stand managed to slip an arm out between the stone fingers and began punching its captor, but its blows did little damage.

"You're too weak to get out of Division Bell's grip." Sid's voice came from Division Bell's floating head, the only part of the Stand that remained separate. If Sid was worried about being submerged in water and unable to swim out of it, his words didn't reflect it at all. "You tried to drown two innocent people. Now it's your turn to feel trapped with no way out."

Even while it was being slowly crushed Texas Flood, or Vaughn speaking through it, remained defiant. "That's big talk coming from a dead man!" The enemy Stand raised its arm and pointed at Sid. Before Sid could react, Texas Flood drew its arm back and then jerked it forward. Sid's blood mixed with the water as it leaked out of a new wound; a small shallow hole had appeared on Sid's left arm. Texas Flood repeated the gesture several more times, and each time another hole was punched into Sid's body.

Sid fought to keep from letting out any precious air as the invisible attacks tore into his skin. Though he tried not to lose concentration, Division Bell's grip loosened bit by bit. Within moments Texas Flood was free. The enemy Stand crossed its arms and floated above Sid, looking down on him mockingly. "Have you ever fired a gun underwater? The bullet only travels a few feet before losing momentum. That is basically what I just did to you: I hit you with pressurized water droplets."

 _Damn,_ Sid thought. _I didn't think he could attack me from a distance…_ Division Bell gradually lost its form, becoming little more than granite blocks drifting about. Sid directed them with what remained of his energy, and they slowly spread out in different directions. His tenacious glare became more and more strained as he struggled to stay conscious. _Can't let him go after the others… gotta stop him…_

"I'm satisfied," Texas Flood stated. "I've seen what kind of person you are… and I find you disappointing." Vaughn's words took on an air of condescension. "When you decided that protecting that old couple was your 'goal', you had already lost! You let your 'will' be bound by other people! You've made lines that you won't cross, and all those lines do is limit you!"

Suddenly Texas Flood swam backward. The blocks making up Division Bell slammed together, forming a hollow rectangular slab. If Texas Flood hadn't moved, it would have been trapped within. "You think I didn't notice that you were slowly trying to surround me?" With a shudder the slab tilted and lunged forward, trying to ram Texas Flood. Again the enemy Stand avoided the attack.

As if the last vestiges of Sid's strength had been spent, Division Bell broke apart. Its constituent parts tumbled down onto the floor. Sid himself didn't look much better; his face twisted in agony as he vainly tried to swim. Texas Flood let out a harsh laugh. "You got 'tied down' by trying to help people, and look where it got you!" Between his bulky body and open wounds Sid could barely follow Texas Flood as it maneuvered toward the exit. "Only those with the 'will' to do anything succeed in life! Ponder that now, while you still have enough oxygen in your brain to think!" With that, Texas Flood departed the water-shape and left Sid to his fate.

* * *

Jason didn't mind one bit when he plopped onto the floor of the bordering room. Dry land was starting to feel like a privilege, one that he had been taking for granted. When he tried to climb to his feet, he quickly realized that his right foot had been taken. _Every time I go to a different room, I lose a limb… Going from one 'area' to another… that has to be what triggers the statues!_ Leaning on the wall Jason limped his way across the room, over to the fallen shelf that Reeve and Gabriel were pinned under. A water-shape encompassed both of their heads, and for all their struggling they couldn't escape it. Prompt assistance from Schizoid Man freed them.

The elderly coupled hacked the water out of their lungs and fought for air. When they found it their relief quickly turned into confusion. Gabriel turned to Jason, her eyes wide with dread. "Wh-what's going on?! The water attacked us, w-we were drowning and…" She stopped and gasped when she noticed Jason's missing limbs. "What happened to your body?!"

Reeve chimed in, somehow more angry than afraid. "Who the hell's responsible for this, Jojo?! What're they doin' to my house?! I don't give a damn if it's a ghost or what, nobody fucks with my wife or my business!"

 _They're awfully lively for having just nearly drowned…_ Jason waved his idle thoughts away and stared back at the water-filled showroom. Sid was conscious, but just barely, and was swimming as best he could in a seemingly random direction. _Dammit, he must be nearly out of air!_ "Sid! Hang on!"

His resolve weakened as his remaining foot neared the water-shape. _Wait. If I step through the doorway, and go into another 'area', then the statues will probably take away my other hand! I doubt I can swim like that… and even if I could, I'd have no way to defend myself from Texas Flood!_

"Jojo!" Reeve was still carrying on. "Tell me what the hell's happening! Where's Sid?!"

 _What if I sent Reeve and Gabriel to go get Sid? That way I could go find the Stand Users…_ Jason slapped his forehead in frustration. _What am I thinking? They'd have no chance against Texas Flood! Was I really considering throwing away their lives as easily as dropping a kiwi into a blender?_

"Answer me, dammit! What is going on?!"

"Just shut up for a minute! I need to think!" Jason's teeth ground together as he wrestled with his thoughts. _Sid, what you said about moving forward… That kind of straightforward thinking doesn't work when there's two paths! How am I supposed to know which one to take?_

A sharp pain jutted through Jason's body and knocked him down. He turned around just in time to see Texas Flood thrust one of its abnormally long fingers into a small cube of water it was holding. A thin bullet-shaped sprout of water flew from the cube and tore into Jason's stomach.

"Jojo, what's happeni…" Reeve and Gabriel were quickly silenced as Texas Flood seized them by their necks. They uselessly thrashed at their invisible assailant until they were flung against the brick wall of the showroom. The elderly couple sank to the ground and stopped moving.

"'If I go back in that room, I'll die!' That's what you were thinking, wasn't it?" Texas Flood sneered as Jason struggled to rise again. "You're even more disappointing than the other one! Anyone who spares time for thoughts like that is worthless!" The Stand fired another water-bullet, which drilled through Jason's good leg. Fighting to catch his breath, Jason sent Schizoid Man out in a desperate attempt to land a punch, but it was no use. Texas Flood hovered out of reach.

"Hey, Vaughn?" Ellas' timid voice came from one of the statues stuck to Jason's body. "That big guy is almost out of air. Shouldn't you drain the room now? You said we weren't gonna kill anybody…"

Vaughn paid him no mind, and Texas Flood continued to gloat. "The best part is that I wasn't even in the room! My Stand's range is pretty wide, so I simply circled around the house! I figured that way I could get the drop on you! You were even nice enough to make it easy for me!"

Jason fought against the blades of pain and slowly rose to his foot. He stared directly into Texas Flood's blank eyes as he propped himself against the corner. He bent his knee, preparing to leap at the enemy Stand, but it preemptively fired another water-bullet, this time aimed at his chest. Blood streamed from the fresh wound and he crashed to the floor once again.

"What's with that look?! Someone as weak-willed as you shouldn't glare like that!" Vaughn's voice grew angrier as he continued to rant. "This power transformed me from a 'sheep' into a 'man'! It gave me new eyes, and showed me what truly mattered in this world! You were given the same power as me, yet you squander it! You aren't worthy to have a man's eyes! The only eyes that fit you are the dull eyes of a sheep!" Texas Flood drew back its finger, ready to attack again.

Something caught the attention of Jason's remaining eye. Something behind Texas Flood. He opened his mouth and shouted at the top of his lungs. "A little to the left!"

"Are you trying to confuse me?" Texas Flood asked with clear disgust. "Or are you hoping I'll pierce your heart and give you a quick death?"

Jason answered with equal scorn. "I wasn't talking to you."

A small square block rushed through the air and struck the back of Texas Flood's head. The force knocked the enemy Stand forward. Schizoid Man reached out, grabbed Texas Flood by the throat and pulled it in close.

"You're in range."

The rock placed itself on the stump of Jason's right arm, morphing itself into a stony replica of a hand.

"Perfect."

In one swift motion Schizoid Man grabbed both of Texas Flood's hands and broke them. Vaughn wailed in agony as all of his fingers snapped with nauseating crunches.

Schizoid Man balled up its hands and let its fists fly.

"ORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORA!"

The barrage sent Texas Flood's limp body careening across the showroom. A distressed 'Vaughn!' sounded from one of the statues as Texas Flood slowly faded into nothing.

The water-shapes dissolved, sending a deluge pouring in from the adjacent room. Schizoid Man clung to the doorway and barely managed to keep Jason from being carried away by the tide. The water slowly evened out, leaving a small flood that covered much of the ground floor of the shop. The flood must have awoken Reeve and Gabriel, for they began to stir.

Jason hobbled to his foot and started for the door. "Sid! Can you hear me? I'm coming!"

"D-don't…" Jason was both relieved and astonished to hear Sid's rasping voice call out to him between gulps of air. "I- I'll… be fine… Just need… a minute…"

Jason gave himself the same privilege and lowered himself to the ground. "Reeve and Gabriel will be alright," he shouted as the couple returned to their senses.

"Good…" was Sid's wheezing reply. After filling his lungs with wonderful air, Sid became more talkative. "I took a hell of a gamble… That dart you shot earlier… was still in this room. I couldn't make it to the door, so I stuck it in me… "

"Yeah… I felt it when you did. So I linked our senses of sight… I figured there was some reason you didn't manipulate that chunk of shoulder you launched in here… Or maybe I just got lucky and picked the right sense."

Sid let out a soft but resounding chuckle. After a few moments of respite, he remade his stone prosthetic foot and stood up. "Ready?"

Jason nodded in resolution. "Yeah. We can't risk letting them get away."

Sid called out to the shop's proprietors. "Reeve, Gabriel. Whatever happens, stay inside."

Gabriel had been stunned to silence, but Reeve hesitantly responded. "Yeah… alright. Whoever… or whatever… is causing this mess… kick his ass for me."

"Sid, we should go out through the windows," Jason called out as he prepared to do so.

"Alright. Sorry in advance for the damage."

The windows shattered under the force of the men's' Stands, and out they went. Jason's left hand vanished along with a statue as he exited the building. _Can't shoot any more darts…_ He had little time to regard it, however; Vaughn and Ellas were right in front of him.

Vaughn was a sorry sight. His hands had been ruined beyond recognition, each bloody finger twisted in directions that fingers simply shouldn't go. Bone was visible beneath some of them. The rest of his body, covered in bleeding discolored bruises, didn't look that much better. With a feeble groan he regained cognizance, but could do no more than barely lift his head as his opponents cautiously approached.

"Vaughn! They got out! Get up, get up!" Ellas, though unharmed, looked almost sick with fear. He desperately tugged at Vaughn's leg as Jason and Sid closed in. "We can still do this! We don't have to kill them, j-just get them to give up!" Ellas gently started to prop Vaughn up against the side of the brick building. "I'll, I'll steal some splints for your fingers, and-and we'll go regroup. W-we can use…"

"'We'? Go fuck yourself." For all his wounds, Vaughn had lost none of his usual contempt. "You're shivering like an animal in the cold. Just run off like I know you want to."

Incredulous, Ellas stammered "W-what are you saying? I'm not…"

"I only agreed to this job," Vaughn pitilessly stated, "because I thought your ability could be useful. I wanted money, and your Stand would have been a good way to steal the antiques. That's all. But I should've known you were worthless. You're just as cowardly as they are. So go on, save your own hide. I don't run."

Ellas backed away, his eyes wide, his mouth agape. "E-even… even you didn't believe in me…?" The sheer amount of dejection on the boy's face almost made Jason feel a little sorry for him.

Sid picked up his pace. Bereft of limbs save for his left foot, Jason continued to hobble along the side of the antique shop, struggling to keep up.

Vaughn seethed in anger as Sid drew near. "You think I'm afraid of you? Someone as weak-willed as you won't kill me. Whatever you do to me, I'll beat it. You can't…"

Sid didn't say a word as Division Bell brought its massive fist down on Vaughn's head.

Jason stopped cold. _He deserved it, but… Sid didn't even flinch._ Sid was becoming intimidating all over again.

Ellas continued to stumble backward. His breathing grew heavy when he saw what remained of Vaughn's lifeless face. Sid made his way toward Ellas with deliberate, measured steps. "I'll say this once: Give up," the heavy man growled.

Jason expected Ellas to take off running, or to fall down and start pleading for his life. The boy did neither. "Y-you're looking down on me, aren't you? You think I'm helpless, don't you?" Though he continued to back away, Ellas' tone grew more and more forceful. "I-I'm not like that lunatic! He may have been strong, but he was reckless! I thought he believed in me, but no one does! So… so I'll prove it!" His breathing steadied while he maneuvered himself off of Reeve's property. He took his eyes off of Sid only for brief moments at a time to survey his surroundings. "I'm not leaving empty-handed! I'm gonna get my victory! I'm gonna make you all respect me!"

An utterly humorless Sid followed him onto the neighboring yard. "We're outside. There are no more 'rooms' you can make us go through. You're powerless here." Sid's thoughts, however, gave a different impression. _He's staying just outside of my maximum range. Does he have an ability I don't know about?_

"D-don't look down on me!" Ellas held out his hand, and a panther statue materialized in his grip. Turning to the right, Ellas hurled the statue as far he could, and it landed near the middle of the cul-de-sac. As soon as it hit the ground, the statue began to roll down the road at a leisurely pace. "「MIDNIGHT RAMBLER」can't move very fast by itself, but it will go wherever I want it to." A nervous laugh crawled from Ellas' mouth. "And where do you think that might be? There are about twenty houses on this street, and my Stand can go inside any one of them. Who do you think it will stick to? Maybe a father about to walk outside to mow his lawn. Or a mother, going from room to room doing spring cleaning. I can steal things from them that they'll never get back, so don't tell me I'm powerless!"

Division Bell appeared behind Sid. A chunk of its torso broke off from the rest, and it flew over to replace Jason's missing foot. "Jojo, don't let that statue get away!"

"Hey Sid, can you give me a hand? Like, literally?" Sid silently marched onward. "…He's too focused to hear me. Great…" Jason sighed and chased after the statue.

Ellas continued his backwards trek, moving through an open white picket fence with Sid not far behind. The fence belonged to Reeve's neighbor, who lived in a single-story house with red paneling and white shuttered windows. In the yard were two boys no older than ten, both of whom were watching Ellas' reversed shuffle with their age group's trademark curiosity. Ellas stopped once he reached them. "Hey there," greeted Ellas, who fought to replace his nervousness with a friendly smile.

"What are you doing?" one of the boys asked.

Ellas pointed at Sid, who was tensing up and preparing to jump within striking range. "Oh, I-I'm playing a game with my friend over there. You can play too, if you want." Ellas held out his hands, and a panther statue appeared in each one. Sid immediately charged at Ellas. His entire left leg vanished the moment he crossed the fence, and he fell face-first onto the ground.

Ellas dismissed the statues he was holding, as well as the errant one down the road, and made a mad dash to his left. "You shouldn't have underestimated me! Midnight Rambler activates whenever you move between 'walls'! Whether it's the walls of a fence or a room, any 'wall' will do! You thought you could handle me by yourself no problem, didn't you? I was waiting for an opening, and your arrogance gave it to me!" The boy's prideful boasts trailed off as he reached his goal: Sid's truck.

"Sid!" Jason ran back to the antique shop, but by the time he reached it Ellas was already inside the truck. Seconds later it roared to life and Ellas slammed the gas pedal. Tires squealed upon the road as Ellas sped off.

"Damn it all!" Sid fashioned a new leg for himself, and he and Jason gave pursuit. "I didn't think about it til now, but when I went through the window I didn't lose any limbs, even though you did! He stole my keys instead! He was planning for this!"

Ellas picked up speed as he drove toward the tunnel near the end of the road. "If he gets away, we'll never get our limbs back! We gotta…" Jason sprinted ahead of Sid as he thought up a plan. "What's the max distance you can move a piece of your Stand?"

"Five meters! If I throw it further than that I can't control it anymore!"

"Throw a piece of it at the truck as hard as you can!"

Between the missing limbs of its master and the parts of it that had become prosthetics, not much remained of Division Bell's main body. Sid hurled a small chunk of it toward the truck anyway. When the rock flew over Jason's head, Schizoid Man was there to meet it.

"ORA!" Schizoid Man kicked the rock with its only remaining foot, and it soared toward the truck at a breakneck speed. The Stand's aim was true, and when the projectile caught up with the moving vehicle it smashed through the rear window and struck Ellas in the back of the head. The boy lost control of the truck, and it soon collided with a parked car. The impact jettisoned Ellas out of the truck, sending him tumbling over the car and across the pavement. He rolled to a stop just outside of the tunnel's entrance.

Ellas groaned as he climbed back to his feet. Though he was cut up and his opponents were closing in, Ellas quietly laughed. "This is fine. This is perfectly, utterly fine. I'm right where I want to be…"

* * *

 **STAND: Midnight Rambler**

 **USER: Ellas (18 years old)**

 **POWER: D SPEED: E RANGE: A**

 **STAYING: A PRECISION: B LEARNING: A**

 **ABILITY: Anyone the Stand is attached to will**

 **have something stolen from them whenever**

 **they pass between two walls. One statue will**

 **steal one object, and the size of the objects it**

 **can steal is limited.**

* * *

When Jason and Sid reached the semicircular tunnel, Ellas was already at its exit. Its rustic brick interior seemedmuch more spacious than it did when they originally drove through it. The duo stopped at the entrance, staring at the boy in the black-and-white tracksuit and planning their next move.

Ellas returned their stare and took a single step toward them. "You were smart to stop where you did. The borders of this driving tunnel count as 'walls'. If you enter the tunnel you'll lose another limb." Another statue formed in Ellas' hand. It shattered when Ellas tightened his grip, and in its place was a yellow skateboard. "I used to hang out at the slalom on Meurthe Street after school. There was a guy there who would make fun of me every time I went there to practice. He was bigger and stronger than me, so I never tried to fight him. He'd always tell me how ridiculous I looked trying to hang with the pros, and how crappy my deck looked. I stole this one from him. I stole the next three skateboards he bought, too. He was good practice when I was still getting used to my Stand."

Ellas set the skateboard at his feet and pointed across the tunnel. "If you come through here, I'll take off! There are plenty of places I can hide out here, and I can steal the keys to a car easily. You'll never catch up with me, and you'll never get your limbs back! And don't even think about trying to go around, either! The hills on the sides of the tunnel are steep. By the time you get over them I'll be long gone."

One look to the right and left showed Jason that Ellas wasn't lying. He returned his attention to the boy. "After all that talk about us looking down on you, you're gonna run away?"

"Don't call me a coward! This is a 'tactical retreat', like a skilled matador leading the bull around the arena, looking for a chance to strike! You may be stronger than me, but I've outmaneuvered you and you know it!"

Ellas moved a couple meters closer, his apprehension melting away with every step. "Now dismiss your Stands! Get rid of those stone feet! If I see even a glimpse of your powers, I'll leave!"

Reluctantly, Sid did as he was ordered. He and Jason hit the ground again as their replacement limbs disappeared. "What do you want?" Sid asked bitterly. "All of the antiques?"

"I've changed my mind," Ellas replied. "I can come back for the antiques any time I please. I want your wallets. The money you two are carrying might not measure up to what I could get by selling the antiques… but they will be a mark of my victory over you! They'll be my keepsakes, my proof of what I'm capable of!"

"…If we do that," Jason said, "You'll give our limbs back?"

"Maybe," Ellas replied with a sly grin. A malevolent twinkle danced in his eyes.

 _His demeanor's totally changed. His face doesn't look like a scared boy's anymore… It looks like the face of a chess champion who knows he's about to make the winning move!_ "Sid… You're the only one of us who still has a hand left… Take the wallet out of my front left pocket. Give him yours too."

"I'm not giving him shit," Sid hissed. "If we let him get away, he'll become an even bigger problem later! We need to figure out a plan!"

"Hey!" Ellas' yell echoed through the tunnel. "Either you give me your wallets or I'm leaving! I'm in control here!"

"Sid, just take our wallets and throw them to him!"

"And then what?!"

"We move forward."

Sid gave Jason a long look before taking their wallets and tossing them through the tunnel. They sailed across roughly half of the tunnel before landing.

"W-wait!" Ellas' anxiety started to creep back in. "I didn't tell you to throw them! You're trying to trick me! Come through the tunnel and grab them!"

"If we do that," Jason stated calmly, "then you'll just take our limbs again."

"I won't, I promise! Just get the wallets, then leave them at the start of the tunnel and…"

"Aren't you tired of being afraid?"

"STOP CALLING ME A COWARD! How can you still be looking down on me?! What do I have to do to prove…"

Jason's reply was quiet, but it silenced Ellas rather quickly. "I don't blame you for being afraid. The whole city's on lockdown. People are being dragged from their homes by soldiers, and carried off for reasons they don't understand. And people like us, Stand Users, suddenly started popping up. There's no telling what could happen in the near future."

"Th-that's exactly WHY I need the money! I need to get enough money to bribe a guard into smuggling me out of here!"

"We have at least a thousand dollars between the two of us, probably more. I don't know how much that'll help you, but take it. You've won it from us. All you have to do is walk over and pick it up."

"That's j-just what you want me to do, i-isn't it! You're…"

"Just pick it up and walk away," Jason serenely responded. "That's how you'll complete your victory over us."

A few seconds of stillness filled the air before Jason continued. "If you want to be respected, you have to show 'bravery'. And 'bravery' doesn't mean throwing away your fear… it means moving forward even while you're still feeling it. You've outsmarted us, two against one, even though you were afraid. You've gotten our respect. Now you just need to get it from yourself. Prove to yourself that you've truly won, and take the wallets."

A cold, soft tap marked Ellas' careful footsteps. Little by little, the young man approached the wallets. _…I can do this,_ he thought to himself. _I can do this. I was watching their Stands through Midnight Rambler while they were fighting Vaughn… I know their Stand's ranges are too short to reach me, I know it! I'm gonna win! I can do this!_

Ellas' heart was pounding as his prize drew closer and closer. He eyed his opponents suspiciously, but they hadn't budged an inch. There was no sign of their Stands being active. His tension hit its peak when he arrived at the last step. With all the slow precision of a trained surgeon, Ellas laid his feet down and completed his walk.

As if all of his fear had drained out of him at once, Ellas snatched the wallets up as quickly as he could. "I've done it! It's over!"

"Exactly."

Jason leapt off the ground and threw himself as far down the tunnel as he could. Schizoid Man and Jason both lost their remaining eye.

"Did you think I'd take away your other foot instead? You were counting on it, weren't you? But now, even if the other Stand makes you a new fist, you won't be able to land a hit! I told you, taking these wallets marks my victory!"

Behind Jason, Division Bell had reshaped everything below its head into a giant hand. Its open palm slammed into Jason's back and launched him headfirst toward Ellas. Schizoid Man hovered just in front of him.

Ellas' face dropped. "…Oh."

Schizoid Man's head rammed into Ellas' face and knocked him off of his feet. Streams of crimson flew as Ellas' face contorted in anguish. The back of his head reunited with the ground several meters away. Twitches of pain and shock were the only evidence that he was still conscious.

Jason crawled on top of Ellas and placed Schizoid Man's foot on his neck. Choking sounds escaped his bloodied mouth when the Stand applied pressure. "Give them back," Jason commanded. "Now."

Multiple copies of Midnight Rambler hung in midair. Each of them broke like glass, and in a flash Jason and Sid's missing limbs were restored. The statues still attached to their legs faded into nothing.

Jason breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing his hands again. He stretched out his fingers a few times. Everything was in working order. Ellas had passed out by the time Sid caught up with them.

Division Bell reformed itself into its default humanoid state. When it prepared to throw a colossal punch, Schizoid Man put its hand out to stop it. "Leave him," Jason said sternly. "We can leave him here. Police will be here once someone finds the other Stand User's body. He can take the fall."

A fiery temper started to flare up in Sid, one that Jason hadn't seen before. But with a deep breath he held it at bay. "Fine. But I doubt any prison could hold him for long."

Jason couldn't think of a response, so he changed the subject as he and Sid gathered their belongings and left the tunnel. "We better get out of here. Hopefully your truck still works."

Sid scowled as he returned to his truck. Both windshields were shattered, and the bumper sported a new, rather obvious dent. "Goddammit…" He climbed into the driver's seat and threw the pickup into reverse, backing it out of the unfortunate blue car it had been smashed into.

Jason's phone rang as he joined Sid. He answered it, and Aaliyah's dulcet tones blared in his ear before he could say anything.

"[Where the hell are you two?! You were due back hours ago! What happened?!]"

Jason couldn't help but chuckle.

"[Don't laugh like that, it's freakin' me out! Did something happen or not?!]"

Shadow enveloped the truck as Sid drove them through the tunnel and away from the scene.

"I had something I had to take care of. But I'm coming back."

* * *

 **Vaughn**

 **STAND: Texas Flood**

 **CRUSHED – DEAD**

* * *

 **Ellas**

 **STAND: Midnight Rambler**

 **RETIRED**

* * *

 **-TO BE CONTINUED-  
**


	9. Stillwater Night

**Stillwater Night**

* * *

The last thing Jason expected to see on Aaliyah's face was a smile.

"Jojo! Sid! Just in time!" Aaliyah emphatically waved the two inside the hideout. She stumbled forward a bit as she shut the door, but managed not to drop the bottle of whiskey she held. "Got a meeting with the Radioman tomorrow! This is gonna be big!"

To Jason this sounded like nonsense, but Sid seemed to understand perfectly. "The Bergers got in contact with him?"

"Hell yeah they did! So come on, we got plenty a' booze and aaalll night to enjoy it!" As if demonstrating, Aaliyah took a long swig of her whiskey and punctuated it with a satisfied smack of her lips.

Sid relaxed his titanic shoulders and made for the kitchen. "After the day I've had, some booze sounds pretty good."

Aaliyah, looking happier than Jason had ever seen her, motioned for him to follow suit. "C'mon, knock back a couple and tell me what happened earlier!"

Jason cast his eyes on the ground, feeling the same twinge of nervousness he always felt around drunks. "I don't drink. N-no offense."

"Really, dude?" Aaliyah cocked her head and narrowed her eyes for a moment, but the expression quickly faded. "At least come and take a load off!" She left for the kitchen in conspicuously slow strides, trying not to lose balance. Jason joined her, eager to sit down and lick his wounds.

Keith was already seated at the simple redwood table, taking sips from a bottle of strawberry vodka. He had been at it for a little while, judging by the vacant grin he wore. "Ya hear the news? Us and the Bergers are meetin' with the Radioman tomorrow! 5:00 PM sharp!"

"W-who's the Radioman?"

"Yep, the Radioman! Can't believe the Bergers tracked him down."

"No, I mean WHO is he?"

Aaliyah plopped into an empty chair. "Ya gotta tell us what happened downtown first!"

Jason's mouth opened in protest, but one look at Aaliyah's excited face closed it. _They're plastered, there's no point in arguing..._ He acquiesced and started telling her what she wanted to hear. She listened silently until he got to the part where he and Sid were nearly drowned.

"Damn! 'Water water everywhere, nor any drop to drink', huh?"

"What's that from?" Sid spoke up from his spot against the countertop.

Aaliyah giggled a bit. "Come on, even I know that one!"

"Whatever." Sid took a long swig of whiskey, acting like it was as bland as water.

Jason narrated the rest of the story, noting that Ellas was left at the scene for the police to pick up. "I figured the police can blame him for everything, so they won't come after us."

"I called Reeve after we made the rounds. Said he pinned everything on him. Dunno know how much good it'll do," Sid added sternly. "Don't trust the cops any more than I trust that kid."

"Look," Jason said defensively, "that kid was about my age, I didn't want Sid to…"

"Eh, I wouldn't worry 'bout it!" Aaliyah cheerfully interrupted. "That kid knows not to fuck with us again! Everything worked out!"

"R-really?" Jason's surprise went unnoticed as Sid approached the table.

"Before I forget." Sid threw a large stack of bills on the table. "That's everything we collected, before and after the incident."

Aaliyah thumbed through the stack for a few seconds. "Sweet! This'll come in handy!"

 _She's WAY more chill than she was over the phone,_ Jason thought. Clearing his throat, Jason spoke loudly to get her attention back. "So, about this 'Radioman'…"

"Oh yeah! You dunno who that is, do ya?" Aaliyah leaned in, like one would before they whispered a secret. "The government's been after this guy. Like, this guy specifically. The Berger boss promised to protect him if he tells us everything he knows and helps us out! If this pays off, we might be outta this mess for good!"

For a moment Jason's heart lifted. _Is she serious?! Is this 'Radioman' THAT important?_ His cautious nature quickly kicked in, however, and he replied with stoic skepticism. "How do we know that he can really help us?"

"They've been gunning for him for a while now! Took over his neighborhood and made him go into hiding and everything! He's gotta know somethin'!"

"Officers are after me too, and I'm just as in the dark as anybody. This could end up leading nowhere."

A sudden loud noise nearly made Jason jump. Keith took his fist of the table and pointed an accusatory finger at him. "This is our first real lead! What're you so pessime-… piss-… pessimistic for?!"

"I'm just saying not to get your hopes up! This guy might not know anything, or he could be trying to lure us into something. We…"

Keith banged his fist again. "You tellin' us not to go?! We gotta know for sure!"

"I'm NOT saying we shouldn't hear him out, just that we NEED to be…"

Another bang. "I don't wanna hear your gloomy shit right now! Just let us have this, for one goddamn night!"

"Hey! HEY!" Aaliyah shouted Keith down. He reluctantly leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms in a huff. Aaliyah glared across the table, first at Keith, then at Jason. "Argue all ya want tomorrow! Right now, we're havin' fun, whether ya wanna or not! Alright?!" After a short but tense silence the two men nodded.

During the strained stillness, Roger could be heard from down the hallway. "Hey, I wasn't ready! No fair!"

Immediately Aaliyah perked up again. "Are they starting without me?" She got up and dashed through the hall as best as she could. "Hey, I told you guys to wait!"

Sid lumbered over to Keith as he stared down his bottle of vodka and put a hand on his shoulder. "Try to relax."

"I know, I know…"

Eager to avoid Keith for the time being, Jason got up and followed Aaliyah to the other end of the house. The open door to the nearly empty bedroom revealed a curious sight: Roger, Blanford and Enzo standing in a triangle facing one another, each of them with a Styrofoam cup taped securely to their head. They all stood behind a small fold-up table, and upon each table were several glasses of beer. Behind them were additional Styrofoam cups and bottles of whiskey.

Roger fished what appeared to be a large red ball of gum out of one of his glasses, eyeing it in disappointment. Enzo flashed a grin in his direction. "I wasn't ready," Roger whined. "Do-over!"

"Not a chance. Drink up now," Enzo replied, his grin widening all the while. Roger begrudgingly gulped down the shot glass and grimaced at the taste of its contents.

"Why'd you start without me? I want in! Gimme some glasses," Aaliyah chimed like an impatient child.

"We've already set up, you'll have to wait for the next round," Enzo responded.

"How's it taste?" Blanford asked, clearly amused at the faces Roger was making.

"Like horse piss mixed with bread," Roger moaned. He brushed his tongue with his hand, trying in vain to clear the taste from his mouth. "What happened to our good beer?"

Enzo's eyes lit up a bit when he noticed Jason. "There you are, Jojo! You wanna join in next round?"

* * *

 **Gumball Beer Pong (Les Jeunes Style)**

 **Each player starts with an equal number of shot glasses. One additional cup is taped to each player's head, filled near to-the-brim with a stronger liquor than what's in the shot glasses. Players take turns trying to spit the gumball into one of the other player's containers. If the gumball lands in a shot glass, the player it belongs to must drink it. Should the gumball make it into the cup on an opposing player's head, they must drink a large cup of the stronger liquor instead. If at any point a player spills the contents of the Styrofoam cup, no matter how little, they must drink a large cup. The game ends when all but one player has drank all of their shot glasses. Stands are not allowed to participate.**

* * *

"Ingenious little game, isn't it?" Enzo asked with a hint of pride. "Do you go straight for the kill and aim only for the shot glasses? Or do you play the long game, getting the opponent to drink the stronger liquor, making them more drunk and less likely to win future rounds?"

A gentle *clink* caught Enzo's attention as Roger spit the gumball into one of his shot glasses. His smile was positively devilish. "Gonna tell me you weren't ready?"

Enzo sighed, picked out the gumball and downed the shot glass, cringing shortly after. "Ugh, that IS vile…" A soft shake of his head sent a trickle of whiskey down his face. Roger and Blanford chuckled and snorted while Enzo carefully poured himself a cup. " _Quelle malchance_ ," he muttered before sending the whiskey down his throat.

Jason watched the trio continue their game; Blanford was eliminated first, then Roger barely eked out a win against Enzo. His feelings of awkwardness grew all the while, and he didn't wait for them to start the next round before heading for the door. "Just gonna get some air." If anyone voiced acknowledgement it was overpowered by Aaliyah's insistence that she get to play next.

Keith and Sid were conversing in the kitchen, Keith's excited ramblings greatly outweighing Sid's brief responses. Jason passed them by and stepped outside. Aside from the occasional passing car, the night was peacefully quiet. A gentle breeze carried a feather across the yard, as if to accentuate the calm. The near-silence made it easier for Jason's thoughts to overtake him, and they soon did.

 _How the hell did things get like this? I keep running into trouble over and over again… Like a human lightning rod… Maybe mom really was right, maybe we are cursed…_

"Enjoying that fresh air?" Enzo peeked out from the front door, his foam cup still sitting atop his curly hair.

"Not really," Jason replied without turning around.

Joining Jason at his side, Enzo reached into one of his many pockets and pulled out a tiny green piece of paper. It seemed to bulge out at the sides as he unfolded it, and when he finished it had become a bottle of beer.

"My own personal stash," Enzo said cheerfully as he held it out. "Care for some?"

"No thanks," Jason said brusquely.

Wrenching the cup off of his head, Enzo offered it to Jason as well. "There's whiskey if you like that better." Again, Jason declined.

"Suit yourself," Enzo replied. He went quiet for a couple of minutes as he gulped down his beer.

"You… really like that stuff, huh?"

Enzo laughed a bit. "Did you take me for a wine drinker? I actually hate wine."

Another minute passed while Jason continued to stare out at the street.

"I can tell you're a riot at parties." Enzo laughed at his own joke a bit too loud for Jason's liking.

Enzo waited patiently until Jason sighed and began to confide in him. "My mom drank a lot. She got… really dependent on it as I was growing up."

"I see. So you don't touch the stuff?"

"Well… every once in a while I'd sneak some of mom's. Just to get away for a little while."

Enzo scratched his hairless chin for a few moments. "I'd say abusing it and enjoying it are two very different things. We honestly don't get to celebrate like this very often. We've accomplished a great deal these past few days." Leaning in a bit closer, Enzo added, "What I'm saying is that you've really helped us out lately, and it'd be a shame if you didn't get to enjoy the night with us."

Jason looked down and grew quieter. "Don't you think it's weird that we've been attacked as much as we have just this week? Since I came here?"

Enzo gave a quick shrug. "It's a little weird, but it was bound to happen eventually."

Jason took a few steps out into the yard and turned back toward Enzo. "Bad shit… just kind of follows me around. It has my whole life, and it's only been getting worse." Jason summoned Schizoid Man, and the muscular Stand hovered beside him. "Ever since I got this, the only thing that's really changed is that I can fight back." The Stand faded into nothing. "But it feels like life keeps throwing more and more at me. It's like I'm a sailor on a raft, and every time I make it over a wave, the ocean's got a bigger one waiting for me right after. Maybe I won't be able to fight the next one. Maybe this is just how it's supposed to be."

"Jojo, that's bullshit!"

Taken aback by Enzo's abrupt change in demeanor, Jason fell silent. Enzo took advantage of this and kept on.

"If I had just accepted the way things were, I'd still be living on the streets! If Big Sis just accepted things, Les Jeunes wouldn't exist at all! If everyone just accepted the lockdown, God knows what would happen to everyone in the city! You said yourself that you can fight back, so why shouldn't you? Even if fate does exist, you should at least be able to say you took your opportunity to try! Don't just throw it away!"

Jason didn't break his stare, half-expecting Enzo to apologize for the outburst. The solemn look on the young man's face made it clear that he wasn't going to. Jason finally spoke up. "You make it sound easy."

"It isn't. But nothing worth doing is."

The liquor in Enzo's system started to kick in, and Enzo's wobbling legs sent him to the ground rather ungracefully. The tension broke enough for Jason to chuckle at the sight.

"So you CAN laugh." Enzo sat up and matched his grin. "I was starting to worry."

When Enzo invited him back inside, Jason accepted. Sid was waiting for him in the living room, the burly stoicism he normally displayed cracked ever so slightly by a one-sided smirk. "Don't think I said it earlier, but thanks for having my back." He stretched out his massive arm to offer Jason some whiskey. Enzo raised a hand to decline it on Jason's behalf, but much to his surprise, Jason accepted it.

 _Ah, screw it. I've done a lot of stuff I never thought I'd do lately. Maybe I can actually enjoy it for once…_ Jason took a hearty swig, and then promptly coughed most of it back out.

"Might be a little too hard for ya…" Sid noted.

* * *

 **The remainder of the night of May 12** **th** **, 2000 is an inebriated blur in Jason's mind, with the exception of one memory…**

* * *

During Aaliyah's third round of gumball beer pong against Roger and Keith she suddenly lurched forward, her cheeks puffing out as if holding something back. She immediately ran to the nearest trash can and started releasing everything her stomach didn't appreciate having in it. She used Station To Station to hold her hair back.

Keith was rather jubilant about the turn of events. "Hey, she forfeited! Big Sis puked, so she's out!"

"That's not a rule," Blanford argued. "Right, Enzo?"

"I don't thiiiink… nope, it's not!"

"What?!" Keith balled up a fist. "That's retarded, it should be a…"

At Aaliyah's bidding, Station To Station left its post and swung its bonelike arm at Keith, hitting him just hard enough in the face to make her point known. When she found a lull in her vomiting she approached Keith as he picked himself up off the floor. "How many times I gotta tell ya NOT to use the r-word?!"

"It just ss-slipped, gimme a break!"

"Hey hey hey hey," Roger interjected, pointing at the now-empty cup taped to Keith's head. "You spilled it, so drink up!"

"WHAT?! That doesn't count, she used her powers! That ain't allowed!"

"YOU spilled it! YOU spilled it! Drink, motherfucker!"

"I guess it was kinda his fault," Blanford remarked.

"But still, n-no Stands allllowed," Enzo slurred.

Jason watched as all of Les Jeunes, Sid included, began to argue over the intricacies of their made-up party game, the discourse punctuated by Aaliyah's return trips to the trash can. The sight was so ridiculous that Jason found himself laughing harder and fuller than he had in a long time.

* * *

 **-TO-BE-CONTINUED-**


End file.
